Retribution
by Mishimash
Summary: After years of tracking him down and eliminating all that stood in her way, she knew what she had to do, what her purpose was but a stranger appears and begins to unravel everything she’s worked so hard to build…
1. Prologue

This is a first time fic that I started out of complete boredom and the curiosity to see if my ability at storytelling was any good.

I've pinched some bits from the manga and possibly the novel but don't blame me if my take is totally crap! Please cc and tell me what you think. Thanks!

:Mishimash:

Disclaimer: Too poor to own anything!

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_**Retribution**_

**Prologue**

Most people wouldn't notice it at first while they're walking past a park, a street, an alleyway. The immediate drop in the surrounding temperature, the foggy mist with each puff of breath, the feeling of being watched by pairs of blazing ruby eyes.

Most people really wouldn't notice…until the tender flesh of your body is pierced and ripped by invisible blades.

That's the funny thing though. You can't see the disgustingly hunched, sinewy, haggard creatures swathed in black rags if you don't believe they're there in the first place. As kids, everything was possible. The boogeyman in the closet and the monster under the bed were so real you were frozen under the bed sheets, sweating furiously and chanting in your head, willing them away.

But the second you first feel the prick of pain shooting through your body by something you can't see, you start to believe.

The panic first begins as a pulse in your head when you look around and see nothing but as the pain starts to intensify, the images before your eyes begin to take in everything surrounding you.

Taking in the harsh red glow of two orbs pulsing from dark sunken holes set in a leathery face shaped like a mask. The dark embroidered cloak covering the hideous head and down the arms of the creature to its bony fingers clasped around a dangerously wicked scythe; the blade impaled into your chest cavity. A sharp jerk of the scythe from the repulsive yet mysterious creature sends a fountain of blood spurting out of the cavity as your heart continues to pump the blood around your body. Feeling your knees buckle under the excruciating pain spreading throughout the body, you drop to the ground completely shocked.

It becomes unbearably colder now as the time drags on, feeling the blood slowly drain from each vessel of the body. Your vision starts to blur and darken, leaving your other senses to heighten and low rumbling growls can be heard straight above you.

Maybe you were right as a kid, monsters do exist, then again, maybe you were stupid to even think you were brave enough to walk out here by yourself and maybe right now that grip on your soul is slipping.

In a last attempt to shake yourself out of this nightmare, your vision shows multiple empty and expressionless faces floating above looking down upon you, raising their blades.

At this moment, you start to believe that maybe, there's more to life than what meets the eye…

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	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Too poor to own anything!

AN: I really do apologise for the completely unimaginative weapons that I've chosen in this chapter. I've got limited knowledge in this particular field…but by all means do review! )

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**One**

What was initially a slight trembling of the ground gradually became a tremor that strengthened with each second until the whole vicinity was shaking up and down. Fractures snaking its way across the pavement and splitting the roads; widening the crevices to allow the earth swallow cars, buses and the unfortunate souls who were standing near the fissures.

At the centre of the city, the ground seemed to pulse as something pushed its way to the surface, splitting the ground apart and uprooting various buildings to one side, making way for an enormous tower to ascend towards the sky.

Atop the rising ancient edifice stood a lone figure outlined by the hazy sunset, head bowed and staring intensely within the throng of scattered buildings and debris…

12 hours earlier…

_Just two hours in this town and I'm already working, _she thought. _No rest for the wicked._

Dropping her Desert Eagle in her left hand, she reached behind to unclip a fresh cartridge attached to her skirt while simultaneously depressing the button at the handle of her right weapon, ejecting the magazine to the ground and slamming the new cartridge home in lightning speed.

The skulking hooded demons before her dragged their feet with each step, purposely roaming in a zig-zag fashion trying to crowd her into one spot, raising their weapons above their heads ready for the kill that would never come.

Using her free left hand, she bunched her leg muscles, flipping backwards with her left hand supporting her body on the ground in a handstand and pushing back off to flip upright again. As easily as breathing, she pulled another gun from her belt and aimed for the heads of the creatures.

Smirking to the moaning figures gathering before her, she thought to herself before pulling both triggers.

_Too easy_.

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One hour later, Mary was walking up the steps of a seedy motel, carrying a backpack on one shoulder and an unusually long duffel bag slung onto the other, trying to determine which door matched the number of her keys. Every inch along the walls were caked with graffiti and extended to the doors, conveniently obscuring traces of the door numbers. 

_Did I just miss the room? God it reeks in here…_

Wrinkling her nose, she backtracked a few steps to study the door and squinted, finding an 8 and a 9, just like the numbers etched onto her key but found another marking after the 9.

"Good enough." she muttered under her breath.

Slotting the key and turning the knob, she walked inside and swiped her hand along the door frame to flick the lights on. A musty odour immediately assaulted her nose but ignoring it, she yanked the key out and locked the door. The decrepit room was shabby and dull at best; the carpet was plastered with dirt to the point that it wasn't soft to walk on anymore and the walls didn't fair any better with wallpaper peeling at every corner. Heading towards the cramped bathroom, grime accumulated at every corner and the shower was coated with soap scum.

_Definitely not a five star hotel but…_

"Only because it's the cheapest in town." she reminded herself.

Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror; staring back was a pixie-faced woman clad in a grey sweater and skirt over hipster shorts. Large mismatched grey and burgundy eyes set in a stern pale face framed with unruly, short dark brown hair that flicked out at the tips. Trailing her eyes to the scar across the bridge of her nose, she dropped her duffel bag and lifted a finger, tracing the slightly raised flesh; memories clouding her vision as she was brought back to her first brush with the underworld…

_Flashback_

Hugging the walls and moving along the shadows, two figures trailed through the maze-like city – avoiding any possible light source and moving as silently as the shadows. They stalked the gangly demon along the labyrinth of the city streets and sewer system in the hopes of uncovering its peers. Finally, low moans and grumbles could be collectively heard under the cover of the dark alleyway ahead of them. Completely oblivious to the multiple pairs of glowing ruby eyes hungrily watching from the dark end of the alley, people passed by the entrance hurrying to escape the wintry cold air and into their safe homes.

Hidden away behind the cluster of demons, Mary, with shoulder length hair pulled from her face in a ponytail, lunged forward gripping a Glock 19, anger and hatred burning in her eyes. A strong hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly before she could move an inch further.

"I can do it, Vern!" she whispered savagely.

Shaking his head, he replied with a jerk of his dark head towards the opening of the alleyway where people were still walking past chatting noisily.

Oh.

She slunk back to a crouch but waited for Vern's instructions.

"We'll lead them back out away from the opening." he quietly whispered and with that, his small but compact form stretched up and backed out, expecting her to follow but making small shuffling noises with his boots.

Alerted to another presence, the demons simultaneously snapped their heads towards their direction and immediately began to amble towards them, groaning some form of demonic speech.

The two began to jog faster trying to draw the demons towards an empty enclosure, away from innocent bystanders but finding another dead end alleyway they swivelled around to face their pursuers, already hoisting their blades ready for the strike.

Whipping out their weapons, Mary and Vern began to open fire and stood back to back as the demons encircled the two. Knowing the situation had worsened, they'd run out of bullets at some point and would have to resort to hand to hand combat, Mary braced herself and began to use calculated hits to stun and then attack the opponents. Seeing her move out prematurely, Vern followed suit to cover her, lashing out with his right foot to kick away a scythe heading dangerously close to his chest and fired a round into its head, the demon exploding into sand and dust.

Unconsciously breaking away from Vern, Mary attacked with all her strength. Fury welled within her and she let it escape in the only way she knew how to: combining her gymnastic moves with her new combat moves with a gun in each hand; she danced a deadly ballet with a series of flips and twirls shooting anything that moved towards her. Every creature that she saw possessed a mask twisted to the shape that she knew so well, every detail in every face distorted to show that same hollow face that came to her in her dreams at night.

Finally unable to keep up with all the demons approaching she stood on the spot and continuously shot round after round but left her defences completely open.

Meanwhile, Vern was desperately trying to reach Mary before she was overwhelmed by the hordes of demons which were slowly diminishing but a sharp bite of pain in his left shoulder told him that he'd been shot. Wincing in pain, he continued his assault but tried to move sideways away from the firing range.

Mary was still shooting blindly at each head that she saw until her gun hollowly clicked repeatedly. Empty. Dropping the gun quickly, she shifted her stance to once again fight hand to hand but a moment too late.

A blade flashed before her eyes and she heard Vern bellow her name over the combined low murmurs emitted from the demons. All she could think about was how she wasn't meant to die like this and everything faded to black.

_End Flashback_

Shaking herself from her reverie, she blinked back her vision and frowned at the feeling of unease the memory invoked.

_I'm not that stupid anymore. I can handle myself now…_She assured herself.

Light headed yet feeling exhausted from the combined effects of travelling all day, exertion from the hour before and not nearly enough sleep, she picked her bag up roughly and dragged it to the main room.

Sighing, she dumped her bags on the floor, stripped off her sweater that reeked of demon ash and gunpowder and flopped onto the blankets of the bed. Not bothering to change or remove her boots to get between the sheets and slightly wary of what she'd find there, she fell into a deep slumber dreaming of a life she had left behind.

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	3. Chapter 2

AN: Firstly, I'd like to say thanks to Chrome, I really appreciate the effort you've put to review this and for the encouraging words – big hug! Secondly, I didn't mention this previously but this will focus on Lady's history as well as Vergil's.

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**:Two:**

She awoke to the sound of the windows rattling violently in their frames. Next was the bathroom mirror falling off its hook and smashing to pieces on the tile floor and finally, the lamp at the bedside table toppling off and crashing as well, scattering shards of glass from what used to be the light globe onto the carpet.

"What the hell…?" She propped herself up to her elbows blinking away the sleep that misted her eyes.

_The city isn't known for earthquakes or tremors…could it be…?_

Snatching up her two bags from the floor, she fled to the door, tackling the lock and bolted outside, just in time to see parts of what looked to be a large tower shaped like a twisted stone lighthouse erupt from behind a maze of buildings some distance away.

Looking around, people were rooted to the spot, staring at the large column of stone erupting from the ground as the quake continued to rock the city, deep fissures snaking away from the tower and widening with each second.

Pandemonium ensued as realisation dawned on peoples faces should the spreading fissures snake towards them. People were screaming, pushing and shoving; running, driving and cycling as fast as possible away from the core of the devastation.

Gazing into the harsh glare of the setting sun; she knew what was happening and who was behind it but the only thing she could see now was an image of her mother from that stormy night…

--------_Flashback_--------

Fourteen year old Mary was slightly suspicious that her mother wasn't home to welcome her back with a gentle smile as she usually did when she came back from a long gruelling study session at school every Wednesday. She had come home to an empty house but after an hour of carrying out her daily mundane routine, she began inspecting each room in the house a little more closely. She came out empty, no sign of anyone disturbing the kitchen bench, no one in the master bedroom and even their cars were left in the garage.

_Well _someone _has to be home._

The only thing left to check was the hallway that led to the door, which was normally locked at the end of the corridor. Her mother and herself were always careful not to upset her father by entering his only domain in the house that was devoted to his private study. But tonight, it was left open ajar.

Somehow, she knew that this was somehow connected to her parents' strange absence.

Although they were not close Mary respected her father but curiosity killed the cat and ever since she was young she had speculated what her private but dedicated father did behind the closed door. She stepped down the stairs, carefully to avoid tripping over since the light switch could not be found.

Reaching the end of the flight of steps, she hugged the walls, her hands roaming for a light switch. Finding one, she flicked it on and immediately blinked a few times to adjust to the bright setting. As she did so, she took in the heavy curtains drawn tightly closed, the paper notes strewn haphazardly along the floor and study desk set along one side of the wall, large tables lined in the centre of the room and bordering the room were numerous red oak bookshelves so tall they reached the ceiling and filled with books of all types. It looked as though it were a library with the sheer volume of books present in one room. In between two shelves along the left side of the wall was an equally large closet that had shut doors.

Looking around her, she picked up a sheet of paper at the top of the pile on the mahogany study desk. Scrawled hastily on the paper with her father's script handwriting was what seemed to be a draft of a letter:

'_Dear Mr McLaughlin,_

_I wish to inform you that I would like to discontinue offering my services to you and as a result, I resign from my current position as a Professor of Biblical Archaeology and Curator of the International Reliquary Institute due to personal interests._

_I would like to express my sinc…..'_

_He resigned?_ Mary thought, shock flooding her senses and she crumpled the paper in her hand._ Why would he do that?_

Shifting her attention to around the room, her eyes fell on the large, closed closet and moved towards it cautiously manoeuvring her way around the paper littered floor. Finally standing in front of the closet, she grasped the two silver handles attached to the double doors and heaved them apart.

What met her was an incredible rotting stench and the sight of rows upon rows of jars of all sizes, filled with the heads of what looked to be distorted infants with abnormally large heads; a humanoid hand, its clawed fingers had a scaly glowing sheen; numerous small fist-sized foetuses of an unknown origin coloured in sickly shades of green and yellow; eyes, brains, hearts and other organs all suspended in a clear, yellowing fluid.

But what made Mary gasp and choke back a scream, was the half dozen skeletons that hung above the jars. Each skeleton was mutated and twisted, showing thorns protruding from every angle along each bone. Some even had hair covering their skulls but these barely concealed the thumb-sized sharp horns that were projecting from the cranium. Even bits of flesh that were almost completely rotted were still clinging to the shabby clothes and bones that the figures had somehow managed to retain.

Staggering back with her hands covering her mouth in shock, she turned and ran out of the basement, out of the door and out of her home. She ran as fast as she could to get away from the monstrosities and she ran in any direction that the wind blew her…

It was pouring down when she reached the church that she always attended to on Sundays. Her mind wasn't even thinking straight as her legs carried her to the church. She pushed open one of the heavy doors and peered inside, finding it completely empty of people. Stepping cautiously inside and breathing hard, she walked as quietly as she could, afraid of disturbing the hushed peace in the old cathedral. The candles hung on the pillars, chandeliers and lined up at the altar flickered violently towards her direction as she stepped down the aisle slowly between the pews and neared the altar where the centre piece figure of Christ loomed over a sea of glowing, white candles. Throwing shadows upon the walls the quiver of the flames startled her so much that she stopped her slow progress towards the altar and immediately sat down in the nearest pew to her left. The movement seemed to soothe the dancing flames lined around the cathedral but it didn't soothe the rising tides of panic and fear in her heart.

Head pounding with adrenaline, a mixture of emotions and questions were swirling in her mind. _Where was her mother? And her father? What was she doing just sitting here? What in the world were those things? What was her father doing with them? Did he kill them? What if…_

But Mary knew the truth to the last one deep down in her mind, piecing two and two together; those long nights in the basement, the strange, faint, thumping noises that could be heard on the floor above, the rotting stench of the closet and the operating table tucked into a corner behind the desk. All of it confirmed that her father was indeed, the one who murdered, maybe even tortured those people or things.

Confused, scared and somehow betrayed, a sob silently escaped her lips in desperation; a feeble gasp followed by clear droplets trailing down her cheeks mingling with the rain water clinging to her skin. How could things go so wrong at one turn of the second?

All she wanted to do was to see her mother again, wanted to ask her if everything was alright, wanted her to reassure her it was all a nightmare and all she had to do to get rid of it was wake up.

Mary buried her face in her hands only to find that the piece of paper she found at the desk was crumpled and soaked in her fist.

Unfurling the paper for no reason, she noticed for once the tiny print of the letterhead with a strangely familiar symbol. A small equilateral triangle was printed within a circle; three lines extending from the circle crossing each side of the triangle to meet at the centre of the image formed a gothic emblem that seemed fit for witches.

Pressing a hand to her neck, Mary felt the warm metal pendent press into the tender skin of her neck. Reaching inside her shirt she pulled the small gold pendant her father adorned her with the moment she was born. Its simple design was beautiful in itself, the inlaid swirls of embellishes along the surface of the thin metal was delicately etched onto yet it wasn't pretty enough for a 6 year old girl at the time.

'_Don't ever take it off, Mary. It will protect you from all the bad luck in the world. You _do_ want good luck don't you?'_ She remembered her fathers' purposeful baritone voice echoing in her head as she sat on her bed between the sheets fiddling with the pendant absently in one hand but looking intently on the picture book spread on her blanket, flipping the pages with the other.

'_Of course I do! Don't be silly, daddy.' She replied, grinning._

And she hadn't taken it off. She kept it around her neck at all times even when her mother gave her another prettier necklace made of crimson garnet, passed onto her by her own mother and her mother before her to protect and ward off evil. Everyday, she wore both charms as a token of the love her parents had for her and she wore it for the love she held for her family.

Trailing her eyes down slightly, underneath the logo was an address:

305 Oakton Heights

Savoy, 4266

It was the old mansion by the hills not far from the church, the one that people said was eerie because of the story of the troubled family that lived there almost 30 years ago. Both parents had mysteriously been found dead in one of the rooms one night but their three children were left unharmed. Later, the children were moved to an orphanage out of town only to be killed in various bizarre circumstances, all except one, the youngest, who had disappeared out of sight.

_But why would father have this address on a letterhead? What does this symbol mean?_

If her father had this letterhead, would that mean that he visited the mansion?

_Would they both be there? Maybe they're there for some more property to buy? _Shereasoned in her head but her doubt overruled the possibility as she thought back to what she saw in the basement library. _Right now? At this time?_

_What if he's there? What if mother is there? What will I do? What _can_ I do?_ She thought helplessly as each question flew by her mind. Head bowed and her back hunched, she clutched the sodden paper and stared blankly at the smudged inky scribbles. Desperation was pulling her to go to the address but her fear of confrontation was making her doubt and stay at the church where she knew she would be safe.

_But safe couldn't get you answers. Answers need to be sought and for that, you need to leave to find it, _her inner voice instructed. Find it, find them…

"Mary, what are you doing here at this time? Is there something wrong?" The deep yet mild voice sharply pulled her from her stupor and she jerked upright, snapping her head to see Reverend Goslinger peering at her with his spectacles, concern etched across his wrinkly face. Startled by the disruption and too shocked to confide in anyone, she bolted out of the pews and out the doors of the church, into the cold, blustery night.

Her mind was made up and she ran as fast as she could.

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	4. Chapter 3

AN: Vergil and Dante action will be coming soon! Promise! But please review in the meantime. :)

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**:Three:**

She finally came to the rusty old gates of the empty mansion and stood there; overcome by the foreboding demeanour the mansion seemed to project. It was a large, white house that seemed to be three stories high, having a slight derelict appearance with the forest of trees and bushes outgrowing what would have been a beautifully manicured garden. After years of lack of maintenance it still managed to retain its old Victorian image but it held a slight sinister twist.

It had become windier now, although the rain had stopped pounding down onto the pavement to a light shower, the lightning still danced along the shadows and boomed in the distance. Something didn't feel right apart from the obvious feeling of standing in front of a haunted mansion. The cold wind seemed to have become more violent the moment she stepped within the vicinity of the mansion and the lightning seemed to be centred on the area as well. As much as she didn't want to enter the age-old mansion, she knew that what was inside was going to explain many questions.

Swiping damp, dark brown hair off her face and out of her eyes, Mary studied the gate that was barring her access. The rusted iron gates seemed to have fairly spaced bars, if she could squeeze in between…

Twisting through the bars, she sucked in her stomach and slipped between the bars easily. So far so good, now there was the hard part: finding a way into the house.

For fear that any passer-by would see her; she kept to the bushes that surrounded the front garden. It was like a mini forest filled with tall, wild grass covering the pathways, unkempt bushes overgrown onto flowerbeds and trees grown with their twisting branches spreading with their arms outstretched. The front door wouldn't be left open obviously but she made her way towards the front door in any case.

Stepping up to the doors, she grasped a door knob and turned slowly and carefully but it didn't budge. Gripping the other door knob, she turned the handles and again nothing moved; it was locked. There was no other option but to find a back way in.

She stepped away from the doors quickly and made her to the side of the mansion; creeping from scrub to another until she found a window that seemed relatively low and easy to get into with its broken window panes. Defacing the old manor was a habit for the kids around the area looking for fun and threw rocks and other objects through its windows at every opportunity.

Inspecting the broken glass, she tried to pull and break bits of the sharper shards that still clung to the sill until she could fit through without having to impale herself. Finally getting rid of the last of the sharper fragments, she laid her jacket over the window sill and swung her leg through the window with one foot in carefully finding a landing she could use to balance on. Leaning her weight on what seemed to be a small but sturdy table, she moved the rest of her body through.

The room was quite dark and smelled of musty, rotting wood; she must have been in a library of some sort as the walls were covered in tall shelves that were full of texts. Ignoring the books and moving out of the room, she quietly walked down the corridor, keeping to the wall and rolling her feet from heel to toe to cushion any sound from her soles. She explored the ground level of the manor, checking for any signs of life but trying to slink along the walls and shadows.

Meandering her way around as quietly as possible, Mary tried to look for some clue of her mother, even her father, if only to get some answers but came to room after empty room. She didn't dare climb to the very top level; it seemed even more sinister than the bottoms floors. _I'll look through all the rooms at the bottom first, better to clear it out so nothing can jump me when I'm up there, _she rationalised.

Coming to a room with a narrow door at the back, Mary tried to move as stealthily as she could, careful not to crash to the settee at the end of a lavishly decorated four posted bed. Winding around the bed to the door, she turned the knob and drew the door back slightly and squinted into the murky darkness with the aid of a sliver of moonlight radiating from the bare windows at the bottom of a narrow passage, which wound further down. She blindly stepped onto each step with caution, gripping the cold, steel hand rail conveniently running down the right wall and descended down. At the bottom of the stairwell was a sliver of light that outlined a door faintly through the inky darkness.

Cautious of what was on the other side of the door, Mary carefully turned the knob and pushed the door ajar and pressed her face to the rooted wood of the door to peer inside through the crack.

A large steel top table was placed in the centre of the room with bookshelves surrounding it; everything tinted with a garish blue stain from the flickering neon light hung low from the ceiling.

Hearing no sounds and sensing no movement in the room, Mary took a breath and pushed the door further; wincing as it let a harsh creak reverberate into the room and echo out to the stairwell. Mary stopped her movements immediately, perking her ears for any movement. Sensing none, she squeezed through the crack between the door, not daring to move it further but as soon as she entered the room, the only thing she could see was what lay on the black mahogany desk past the book shelves and the steel top table.

Sprawled across with her arms flung to either side was her mother; wearing the sheet white dress shirt and grey pencil dress as if ready for a day at work; except she had deep gashes criss-crossing both her wrists and forearms which left blood to dribble down the blue fingertips and onto the floor. Her mother must have put up a fight though judging from the way blood drops were flung in all directions on the floor and smeared across her blouse and purple skin. Shock overwhelmed Mary once again and she was frozen on the spot by the sheer terror that seized her. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in her mother's limp form, her face covered by her thick, long dark brown hair, also matted with congealing blood.

Desperate to believe this wasn't happening, she balled her fists and stepped closer to the desk staring hard at her mother's prone form through the tears pooling and spilling droplets above her cheeks.

She tentatively reached out a shaky hand to touch the shoulder of the body and gently nudged, feeling icy cold skin even through the blouse covering her mother's shoulders.

"Why won't you move?" she whispered coarsely. "Get up! We have to go!"

"We have to get out of here!" Her voice rising each second, "Why aren't you getting up!" she screamed, hysterical as she used both cold, sweaty hands to push her mother's shoulder.

But Mary's mother only just rolled her head limply to the side at an awkward angle, uncovering the face hidden underneath the mass of clinging, long hair to reveal dark purple splotches of bruised flesh on one side of the cheek and contusions on both sides of the neck. The corpses' face contorted into a sick grimace as her blood shot, glassy eyes were rolled to the back of the head and her mouth left gaping open as if to scream. The hollow and yet horrified expression was further intensified by the abnormally blue tinged skin glowing from the neon light.

Mary froze the second the face was exposed; she was shaken from her hysteria and gasped out loud, backing away from the table, not caring if she stepped in her mother's pooled blood.

The creak of the door behind her alerted her belated of the presence of someone else, perhaps the killer. But it was too late to run and hide.

Turning to face the person, prepared to be defiant to the end for whatever the killer had in mind but she choked back a scream when she saw her own father standing there, looking calm if not slightly wistfully.

"What are you doing here, Mary?" the deep, calm voice washed over Mary but all she could think of was: _what are you doing just standing there? Get some help! Call the police!_

She wanted to say it but all that came out was, "Why did you do this?" because she knew that it was him who killed those souls leaving their skeletons in the rank closet and it was he who murdered her mother.

"Why?" he echoed, "Because it was necessary for the _family_." He stressed the family but the meaning was lost to her as she watched him shift his foot, taking slow steps forward.

"…necessary…?" she mouthed while shifting around the room as well, unconsciously noticing the way her father moved closer; she mimicked his steps to edge closer to the door. But her mind was still processing the words.

"How can you do this to her? How can what you've done be _necessary_?" she grated out as her despair and anger boiled within her chest, threatening to burst. She couldn't comprehend the outrageous logic in her father's words.

Her father stopped moving, his face still impassive as Mary circled him, she was enraged but her fear for what he could do to her next was overriding her need to find answers.

"Mary, I did this for you, for the power and strength that you and I will gain…" he reasoned with her but she heard none of it because he was taking long strides now to cover the distance between them.

Without further thought, Mary whipped around and ran out of the old, menacing mansion and away from her father; into the gloomy night again, never looking back.

She never saw the slight smirk playing on her father's lips as she ran out of sight.

--------_End Flashback_--------

Soon the creatures inhabiting the tower would be released into the streets. She had to get there fast.

She slung her bags across her back, taking out the necessary weapons she always used, quickly scanning each one to make sure they were loaded and ready, clipping other items onto her body. The other bags she'd have to do without, if she was going to be busy so she left them behind as she leapt onto her jet black compact motorcycle. Kick starting the bike, it roared to life.

"Looks like I found you again…" she whispered to herself as she gripped the handles and burned down the road, zigzagging between debris.

---

It was dark by the time she got closer to the base of the tower and closer to the chaos; as expected, there were low moans and grumbles as well as screams of terror and shrill cries for help as innocent humans were caught in the bedlam. Small patches of fire ignited and bloomed in the vicinity as the mangled fas and water pipes were exposed from the destroyed, fallen buildings. Every building that survived the emergence of the tower had their windows shattered; some people were even looting any junk they could grab onto as they raced past her along the roads, cars had been piled up into each other with their doors flung open and no occupant in site. There was no way to help the injured as she knew that it was too late; the demons had escaped the tower and were loose on the streets. Even now, she could see several demons emerging from the shadows towards her, attracted by the hum of her motorcycle.

---

There were so many scattered creatures along the street ahead she was sure she'd need more supplies. _Looks like I'll be visiting Jimmy today after all._ But at that point she remembered that Jimmy's shop of motorcycles and illegal weapons on the side was situated in the throng of buildings up ahead, sure to have come under attack by creatures released. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, she pressed onwards, hoping to get there in time.

Roaring down the streets, swerving sharply at each corner, she made her way closer, dodging the scattered debris and upheaved cracked roads as the sounds of more piercing shrieks could be heard not too far away. Round another corner, she adjusted her weight on the seat to accommodate the large ballistics slung across her back and the pack she'd strapped around her waist, both pulling her down slightly.

Immediately, she skidded to a stop, clutching the brakes tightly as dark shadows squirmed about ahead of her. She reached behind to flick a gun out in each hand at the ready, whilst the demons twisted their heads at the purr of her bike engine; several sets of ruby orbs blazing in contrast to the darkness. Revving the bike, she gunned towards the mass of assorted Hells' demons with her arms raised and shot round after round of bullets into the oncoming demons.

As each bullet struck rotting flesh, the bodies burst into fine dark sand, showering a rain of dust over her as she passed by, continuously shooting each opponent. Soon, all that was left were the piles of ash and sand on the ground.

The sound of shuffling to her left brought her attention from the piles of dust to another set of 10 or so creatures that were intently watching her every move while maintaining a steady but awkward gait.

Swinging the bike around to face the group, she revved the engine to full throttle, the sound of the roaring engine making some of the Hell Lusts leap in the air forward, closer to get a taste of her flesh.

She hurtled forward towards the demons, leaning back to lift the front wheel, letting the inertia of the moving bike to propel it up into the air. The vulnerable position in the air assured the monsters the kill was theirs and they clambered after the bike, leaping up ready to dig their blades into her flesh. At the last minute, she gathered herself to spring upwards off the bike with all her strength, narrowly missing the swipe of a blade as a demon leaped in the air. She somersaulted backwards as far as possible and pulled out a pistol in mid air, aiming for the gas tank.

The running engine of the bike exploded in a burst of wild, hot fire, sweeping over every creature in reach and incinerated the bodies to dust.

As she landed on her feet in a crouch, the heat from the blast whipped her hair about and left drops of sweat trickling down the sides of her face. Holstering the pistol, she was slightly blinded by the flash of the petrol fuelled blaze but continued to turn her body to face the scene. Her arm instinctively shielded her eyes as the heat grew more intense as the burning twisted metal debris plummeted back down to earth.

_Shame it had to go_, she lamented as pieces of the once sleek and beautiful bike crashed back down. The sand rained down on the metal scraps, dousing the flames still licking at the edges of metal and wiring while small sparks flared and floated in the air. Hefting Kalina Ann higher on her back, she left to walk closer to the looming tower ahead with a satisfied expression on her face.

Pushing the front door even though the glass to the front window shop was smashed in, she stepped over the glass, scanning the dark shop for its owner. Bikes lined along the walls were toppled over, some spare parts flung everywhere while the shelves were smashed, its contents scattered around.

The weapons shop was behind in the next room and the workshop garage was behind that room. She'd have to collect some weapons on the way to the workshop, she decided.

Gingerly stepping over random parts flung to the floor randomly, she noticed a dark liquid swiped in an arc along the vinyl floorboards and trailed her gaze towards its direction. There along one of the walls was a body lying face down in a pool of blood. Stepping towards the body, she could barely recognise the person with its charred features but she flipped the person over anyway.

_God, they did a number on him,_ she thought as she took in the deep gashes along the chest, the torn arm right from the socket and the sharp teeth marks along the face and neck as though gnawing on his bones. It could only be made by a Gigapede as she squinted at the dimly lit ceiling and walls, revealing scorch marks.

She had seen too many of these bodies left by the evil spirits to the point that she was desensitised; there was nothing she could do to help the souls that suffered such a violent death but mourn for them and take revenge.

She rose from her crouch and stared hard at the person's mutilated body and face, it was undoubtedly Jimmy. She didn't like him that much but she respected, even admired his talent for producing quality goods for her. In a few days, he'd be forgotten and left to waste here but she couldn't forget the glazed eyes set in terror as they breathed their last breath. Everyone that she met, they all ended the same way. Dead. Why couldn't it end? It was up to her to finish it all.

Taking a last glance, she turned towards the back door. She had to look for Jimmy's stash of ballistics to reload her weapons and find something useful for her journey ahead. Quickening her pace as the sounds of low murmur and growling could be heard in the din outside of the shop, she knew that Gigapedes wouldn't kill and abandon flesh like this for long. She didn't want to be trapped fighting anything in the dark cramped room.

With only the light coming from the front room, the weapons room was dusky and she could barely see through the dim. Fumbling around on the display case, she found a small but powerful pen light used for inspection. With a beam of light helping her eyes adjust, she began to unstrap her bag from her waist and deposited ammo from the display case and cupboards. Opening a few cupboards below the bench even revealed a box of grenades which screamed military all over it. Rummaging through the displays, she found a few more weapons to her liking and stowed those away to her pack for later use along with handfuls of ammo boxes and clips.

At that point, she heard collective low rasping coming from the other room. Quickly wrapping up her bag, she ran through the next door to the garage, stuffing the pen light to her bag as well as she softly closed the door behind her to try buy some time.

There it sat, covered in tarpaulin but what she could see was a gleam of polished red paint in the dull light shining from the only window in the garage. Her new modified bike, Esmeralda, glossy red and sleek, it was tricked out to include a jet torque with plenty of grunt. She would have had it sent to her previous location but a client was expecting her for a job that day – _not that it'll happen anymore. _She remembered Jimmy on the phone:

'_Yo want _me_ to deliver _it_! Are yo crazy Shell! Dya know how much it'll cost me ta send it ova? Yo did this las time with that bazooka! '_he yelled over the phone with his annoying twangy accent.

'_Fine, I'll come by next week to pick it up myself.'_ And she hung up the phone without a word. She hated when he called her that name but she was desperate for an alias that didn't sound too suspicious. He had stumped her when he asked for a name on the invoice order slip and seeing a petrol station across the street in her desperation hadn't helped.

Hearing the rough murmurs behind the door, she flung the tarpaulin off the bike and grabbed the keys off the hook along the wall, quickly starting up the exquisite motorcycle. The door was being hacked into as she did so, the flimsy door doing little to barricade her from the demons. Looking for an exit, the window seemed large enough and she revved the engine, blasting forwards. The high powered vehicle jetted out a stream of hot flames that licked bottles and cans of flammable paints, lacquer and resins.

Landing on the two wheels, the lady sped out of the alleyway just in time to escape the explosion of flames.

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Aarrggghhh…editing stuff on ffnet is a bitch!


	5. Chapter 4

**AN:** I've given up on editing, it just doesn't want to look pretty; I'm sorry if the format of the fic has been confusing so far. Plz review in the meantime:P

-Mishimash

* * *

**:Four:**

Moving through the streets was becoming harder as chunks of concrete and metal debris littered random corners, blocking pathways. What was more inconvenient were the demons let loose onto the streets. Their slow, jerky movements made them avoidable if she weren't riding her motorcycle, however since she needed a fast route, it couldn't be helped.

Other demons, faster and smarter demons were trickier to deal with. The Hell Lusts were alerted to her presence quicker and as much as she would have liked to derive pleasure from eliminating them, she did have an appointment at the tower looming ahead.

She pressed forward, trying to quickly eliminate the creatures lurking in her path. Ammunition was scarce to find in a place where she was going, she was sure of that; it was better to make the most of her other weapons.

A few metres away, hidden away in the shadows, a dark figure watched behind the corned of a partially destroyed building. Silently watching, waiting for her expectantly to eliminate the demons within the vicinity. A precision shot aimed at the Hell Pride lurching forwards and the last of them were turned to dust.

_Very good._

The purr of Esmeralda speeding off down the street alerted the figure that its quarry was running away. Swivelling around, he moved to his own motorcycle; definitely not as flashy as the Esmeralda, it was slightly rustic with its black paint peeling off but contained enough force to match any other top bike.

Starting up the engine, he moved towards the tower looming overhead, knowing she would be there before him. Gripping the handles, he accelerated faster, taking the back roads, careful not to cross her path.

…

The closer she got to the epicentre, the gorier it got. She had to slow the bike down to wheel between the scattered parts of mutilated human flesh and the rubble surrounding them. It looked like a war zone in reality. The buildings in the surrounding area looked as if they were crushed and piled back up again like a sandcastle and the road was completely torn up with cracks and fissures running every few inches of asphalt.

It was hard to look at the human remains and it was even harder to distinguish who had been gored by demons and who had been killed in the destruction of the buildings. Small crackling fires were still blazing in the ruins along her path as she slowly made her way through, scanning the area surrounding her carefully. The lack of demons in the area meant they had spread out to further parts of the city but that didn't mean they weren't in the immediate vicinity.

The incline in the ground level alerted her that she was very close to the tower now and upon gazing up, she knew she was almost there. Picking up her speed, the bike climbed up the rubble and she had a clear view of the entrance.

She was finally at the base of the enormous tower that surfaced only a few hours ago and yet, instead of the exhilaration from years of unfulfilled vengeance she had felt before, she felt a twinge of unease in her gut. It was true, she was trying to hunt down her worthless father but there was something different about it this time. If she stepped in to that tower, she knew it would change her, for better or worse she didn't know but what she did know was that this was the ultimate climax, all her training, all the strain she was put through was going to come down to the events that would occur once she stepped within the depths of the towering edifice.

Was she ready? Yes. No. Not really. Maybe. She'd never be completely ready to banish the fear that stabbed her in the gut that night 8 years ago. The memories still clung to her like scar tissue – never healing but to serve as a reminder. She was sure that she could cope, after all these years, she had survived everything that was thrown at her; she'd be damned if all that work was gone to waste without at least achieving a small part of her goal.

The past years were taking a toll on her emotionally; every time she moved to a new town for a new bounty, she was always looking for some sign of _him_. And here it was, the bulletin board plastered all over the city.

She wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.

_Ready or not, I'm coming._

…

Believe it or not, the intimidating, twisted tower had a proper entrance with stairs that led to giant carvings into the stone of two serene kneeling figures with jagged wings unfurled, as if welcoming the spectre through the grand double doors between them. The doors were more so extravagantly embroidered with gothic designs, swirls and embellishments plated in silver coating with a baroque border.

_Such an oddly elegant feature in a hideous structure_, she thought as she gripped the handle bars and charged straight up the flight of steps; the beautiful motorcycle engine picked up its speed a couple notches and roared forward. Tilting the front wheels back, the bike thrust forward on its rear wheel towards the entrance and the doors were forcibly swung open.

Swinging her bike to a one-eighty turn, she screeched to a stop and surveyed her new surroundings.

It was a huge antechamber; a lobby of some sort that half resembled a cathedral and an elegantly polished palace. Large spiralling stair cases coming from both the left and right to meet at the centre where a large figure towered over six slightly smaller statues. It was an intriguing sight. Whoever had carved the effigies certainly had some interesting ideas about elegance.

The centrepiece statue was a feminine figure; one that seemed to hold a frosty beauty set in stone, her gaze pointed ahead gazing into oblivion while a small curve at the corners of the slightly parted mouth could be seen on the marble face. Set into the wall of the hall behind the stairs, the figure was sculpted as draped in cloth loosely around its waist; a leg set forward in front to reveal a slender bare leg.

What was bizarre was the fact that the waist had no flesh: it was carved as skeletal vertebrae from the tips of the bottom ribs down to the hips. It was a strangely poignant reminder that beauty could be deceiving underneath the façade and that was reinforced by the engraved stakes nailed into each foot of the figure, sentencing the creature down to the earth, despite the expansive wings that were stretched out behind.

The surrounding six statues were slightly more appealing to look at with their cherubic faces and angel wings; they too were draped in a cloth around one shoulder and waist. Their eyes were the most unnerving feature in all of them. Although they were positioned along the curved expansive staircases on either side of the centrepiece statue, it seemed that they were able to stare down at her and stare deep into her soul, finding all her dormant secrets.

Shaking her head, she moved her gaze away from the disturbing collection of sculptures to what lay ahead. Beyond the stairs were four double doors, less extravagant than the entrance doors but still fairly embellished.

_Hmm…which one to pick?_ She thought through the options; if she needed to get up the enormous tower, she'd need to keep the motorcycle for a quick route up but knowing there was a possibility that the place would be infested with demons made motorcycle movement limited.

Sighing, she'd have to leave the bike. Cutting the engine, she wheeled the bike back near the entrance for an easy getaway if needed but the chances of surviving in this place seemed to be slim. Unstrapping her packs from the bike and taking everything she could, she strode over to the smaller doors at the side of the hall.

_Eeny, meeny, miny…mo._ She pointed to each door and decided on the centre as the best one. Tentatively pulling on the handle on the left door, it creaked open with every inch it opened and the darkness enveloped her as she carefully stepped inside. One by one, flames began to alight as if by magic on small torches set in the stone that lined both sides of the narrow corridor. Another long and slow creak sounded out behind her, the door was closing automatically! Rushing backwards, she tried with the force of her weight to hold the door open but to no avail as the final slam resounded in the corridor. She was shut in and the only way to go was forward. Turning towards the gloom of the corridor ahead, she took a deep breath of musty air and braced herself for the expedition ahead. Each steady step she took lit another set of torches on either side of her and she boldly strode further deeper, withdrawing two handguns, ready for anything.

…

Back at the hall, both entrance door panels were about to fall off their hinges; they swayed and creaked in the soft breeze as the echo of the slammed door began to fade out through the hall.

The dark figure gazed intently at the statues one by one, nodding his head slightly as he poured over the fine details etched into the marble. Turning, he headed past the stairs, striding towards the four entrances with soft footfalls on the marble tiles and went through the left-most double door without a second glance.

Overhead, the stars were obscured as thick black clouds began to cast a shadow over the city.

A storm was approaching.

…

Wading her way through the sea of thigh-high black sand, she kept her weapons raised, ready for any sign of movement. She knew the confined passageway left her vulnerable for attack, her stocky boots moving through the sand made the situation worse as her movements were hindered by the sand seeping in until it completely filled them. Cursing whoever designed the tower, she glared at the stone platforms that lined the right side walls high above her head. No one could have been able to jump from a ledge to one of those platforms if they were to avoid the sand below.

_Well, no one human that is._ She thought bitterly. So wade through the dark sand it was; she just had to hike up her skirt and tough out the gritty grains that seeped into every corner they could find.

The gloomy passage was lit only by three torches perched high above the left wall and emitted little light to her path, attracting more shadows than light along the walls. Her feet crunched onto another dense object that felt familiarly like bones judging by the shape as she rolled her foot lightly to compensate the weight put down and keep her balance. Lifting the other foot up to resurface, she set it down forwards only to sink deeper into the gritty depths. It was stuck her red boots, digging into her toes as each grain bit into her soles with each step she took.

_Goddammit I hate sand!_ She kicked the offending granules, earning nothing but more grit in her face as the dust drifted up.

A muffled whoosh overhead somewhere behind her on the stone platforms could be heard resounding in the narrow but high-ceilinged passage. All thoughts of sand left her mind as she levelled her weapon upwards towards the sound. It was hard to see above with the faint light but squinting in the darkness did nothing to improve her aim – she had to rely on her other senses if she wanted to survive in this place. Quickly shuffling as stealthily as she could, which was not quite at all considering the mass of black sand everywhere; she kept her guns levelled to the platforms.

Another whoosh and then a muffled clack came from the platforms but this time closer towards her direction. Something was coming. Which was odd considering demons weren't normally that quiet, they were usually making some sort of noise or another as a form of communicating with each other constantly; a funny sort of communication since all they ever did was grunt, moan, screech or roar.

She remained silent as she listened and tried to watch for any movements. A flutter of something near the platforms and then a blur of white could be seen.

"Is it fun in your sand box?" a wry male voice drifted to her loud and clear with a slight playful and mocking tone. Straining her eyes to see more clearly, she focussed on the white blob to find that it was a person's face, a human's face. Human or not, they caught her in a compromising and vulnerable position and she kept her gun trained on the white haired person, not taking any risks.

Before she could open her mouth to reply to the smart remark, she felt a slight tremor under her feet, the sand shifting with the movements. Turning around to look at the distance of sand she had covered, just near the centre of the abyss, a hill of sand was emerging but immediately collapsed back down. The slight tremor then became something more violent as the ground shook and the sand began to move in waves, undulating in timed beats.

Trying to retain her balance against the rapidly intensifying motions, she hugged the walls closely in an effort to keep herself upright. Something bad was going to happen; she just knew it. And it was because of that bozo who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

A deep rumbling resounded from below as she began to really panic; she was stuck in a pit of sand with something big, very big if the rumbling gave any clue and whatever it was, it wasn't happy. Quickly slinging Kalina Ann to her front, she kept the blade aimed downwards while keeping herself steady along the wall.

With a final burst, the sand gave way in an explosion of sand and dust that pressed her to the wall with the force of the air. A strangled roar was emitted throughout the passageway, amplified by the enclosed ceiling and out emerged towards the ceiling was what appeared to be a gigantic worm that had multiple appendages akin to tentacles, it was covered with a tough leathery skin that seemed to be translucent white and sickly shiny wet from the absence of light. Equally disturbing, the creature seemed to possess no eyes or openings.

That was until another roaring wail was let forth and with the dust settling, an open orifice, lined with rows of sharp, jagged spindles was gaping from the end of the giant worm-like creature.

Slightly stunned by the magnitude of the giant creature, she knew that she needed to get to higher ground if she was going to fight something this big; she needed an upper hand. From higher above, the sound of rapid gunfire could be heard over the roar as she glanced up to see that the loudmouthed hunter was firing away at the gigantic beast in hopes of finding a weakness. The beast seemed to feel the peppering that it was taking and reared what looked to be its head, the tentacles whipping around madly as spikes began to emerge from each tip. Taking the opportunity of distraction, she quickly tried to cover the distance to the ledge ahead of her and clambered up but not before a tentacle swatted her across the back, flinging her bodily into the air and onto the hard stone ground face first.

Groggily picking herself up, she grabbed her Desert Eagle from the floor and fumbled behind in her pack for a grenade. She kept her eyes on the new stranger, firing into the flesh of the giant worm. He began to jump from stone to stone as the tentacles began to reach up towards him, trying to swat the annoying fly.

If she could just get onto one of those platforms, she could just drop the grenade in…and yet that seemed to be a big if; considering she needed to get onto the platforms first. The ledge she was currently on was certainly higher than the one she was on before walking through the sand. Slipping the grenade back into the bag and taking a few steps back, she ran towards the border of the ledge and pushed off with all her strength, hands outstretched.

Just a bit more spring and she could have landed fine but with the weight of her baggage across her back, she was left to cling onto the platform with her elbows scraping the stone and her hands flat on the hard surface. She pulled herself up with all her strength; her biceps straining to lift the weight of her body while her stomach muscles clenched to steady herself. Finally up onto the platforms, she could see the worm clearly now, its razor sharp teeth bared while the tentacles snapped at the stranger who was now wielding his long sword, slicing the appendages as they whipped past him.

She pulled the grenade out of her pack, waiting for the right moment to toss the explosive. A wail of something like anguished pain and she tugged the pin loose, tossing the grenade with all the strength she could muster to force the shell into the mouth of the monster.

The explosion that ripped the creature apart was enormous; beginning with a rumble that blew sand and dust up into the air, the ground quaked as a shockwave followed the rumble and the creature gave a final shriek as it was immediately dismembered from its underground body. Sticky guts and fluids erupted from the mini volcano, spurted from the depths of the ground and absorbed partially into the sand. What she presumed was the head shot upwards a few feet and landed back onto the ground in a tangled mess of tentacles and innards. Parts of the monster were plastered to the high ceiling and walls; they were sprayed with the dark brown gooey mess onto their clothes and hair, combined with the sand that was still looming in the thick air. Turning to look at each other from their respective platforms above the ground, they seemed to resemble chicken schnitzels; coated in batter and rolled in bread crumbs.

All they needed was the fry pan.

…

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Something about that saying made her want to shoot whoever thought up the stupid phrase and it would come back again to haunt her till she died, she was sure.

As they stared at their sooty, crumbly faces, fissures began to spread out starting from the bottoms of the walls. Stone crackling and bits of loose stone began to fall down from the ceiling; the fractures were snaking around the ceiling, branching out their paths – it could only mean that the passage was going to collapse.

With phenomenal speed, the stranger leaped onto her platform and yanked her to his side by the waist before bounding off the platform and onto the ledge, landing comfortably in a slight crouch. The only thing she felt was the warmth that radiated from him through her thin long sleeve shirt and she realised at such an inappropriate time that he was only wearing a crimson duster. Suddenly feeling girlish, she felt herself beginning to flush at the closeness.

_Who walks around with no shirt on?_ She idly wondered before feeling weightless and then a twinge of pain as her feet were thumped against the hard ground. All girly thoughts were immediately banished.

"Ow! That hurt!" She exclaimed but couldn't bring herself to look at her rescuer, mentally berating herself for thinking such stupid things.

With a humph, the stranger let her go unceremoniously dumped onto the ground, backing away.

"Well, if you aren't going to thank me, I think I'll take my leave; I got bigger fish to fry!" with a cocky tone, he left her still sitting on the cold floor.

* * *

**Another note**: I've made the main statue from the start of Code 2 a female even though it doesn't seem to be; I felt it would be more fitting considering its role later in the story. Expect the next chapter to be out within the following days. 

Thanks for the reviews and kind words: Chrome, Bettany, renderedvoice and Tyrant Hamster; it gave me warm fuzzies after reading! o

**Edit:** Fixed the format since it is really hard to read and I can't stand it.3/9/06


	6. Chapter 5

Enjoy and review when you're done please:P

* * *

**:Five:**

She had seen him out of the corner of her eye as soon as the demons started to swing their blades at her.

_Oh god, it was _him_ again._

No one could miss the long, crimson leather duster and the mop of platinum hair waving about in their faces, even in the dark shadows.

She began to drop kick a Hell Pride standing in front of her and fired a shot at it while shooting two bullets into the face of another that had sprung up in its place with the other hand.

_Obviously this guy doesn't know what a helping hand is,_ she grunted in her head as she reflexively dodged a vicious swipe with her arm flung up protectively. A fraction too slow and she was grazed at the elbow, leaving a thin trail of blood to well up._ He's probably too busy checking his hair to even help out._

But what she didn't see was that the silver haired stranger wasn't really checking his hair but rather, checking her out as she swung around to avoid a swipe and countered by firing her weapon neatly into the shrouded face of the demon before her.

_Not bad for a human._

He smirked as she gave him an eyeful while bending down low to avoid another strike. Clearly she had no clue as to the type of show she was giving, focused entirely on eliminating the last demon. She somersaulted back and aimed her weapon, pulling the trigger. A final explosion of sand ended the confrontation swiftly.

"Couldn't have done better myself!" the stranger ambled closer into her view, grinning widely as she slowly turned around to face him.

He was damn good looking. The piercing, liquid cobalt eyes, clean chiselled jaw, sensuous mouth and his tall, flat muscled frame with broad shoulders; she could go on forever. He seemed to be carved from marble with the smooth unblemished skin underneath the smeared gooey remnants of the dark sand that had coated every inch of his body. How did she not see this before?

_Oh, that's right, there was a huge flailing worm trying to kill me._

"What do you want?" the accusatory tone evident in her voice, blaming him for slight pause as she kept a levelled gun in her right hand aimed at him, panting slightly from her previous exertion as a bead of sweat ran down her dusty, sooty face. She didn't have time for fun and games and she didn't need a tag-along to drag her down. Rescuer or not, there was still something unsavoury about this guy who seemed way too comfortable amongst this setting. She was wary of other bounty hunters in her line of field, always ready to do whatever it took to claim the prize. It was a dog eat dog world after all.

"Nothin much. What's a little girl like you doing in a place like this?" he gestured with his left hand to the expanse of the room reminiscent of a medieval castle but littered with black sand and dust. He could see the wrinkling of the brows and the narrowing of her eyes at this point.

All she could see was the infuriating smirk he had plastered on his ungodly handsome face.

_It could be a trap_, she thought suddenly, _just another way of trying to get to me_.

It certainly wasn't the first time the abominable creature named Arkham had tried to send someone to track her down; they all ended up unconscious on the ground before they began trying to convince her, their _master_ wanted to speak with her.

'_A monster like that wouldn't want to talk, just like you won't.'_

And then she'd pack her bags, not like she had many, and moved to a different location, a random location away from prying eyes or completely immerse herself in a sea of oblivious faces. But now, she wasn't afraid, she didn't need to get away because she was ready to face him no matter what.

"You can tell your 'master' that I'm here now. I won't run anymore." She'd learned from her past mistakes that she was going to be the one that pulled the trigger, no one else.

The stranger only chuckled, ignoring the weapon still aimed at his chest.

"What makes you think I have a master? Or that I'm following you, princess?" he grinned like a Cheshire cat, one that was wild but would have sent her collapsing on the ground in a heap if she hadn't registered that last word.

Incensed, her eyes flashed in irritation. She was wasting her time squandering with some unknown jerk when she should be searching the top levels of the blasted tower which smelled of rotting flesh. That and the fact that his mischievous grin was going to kill her soon.

"I don't care, just stay away from me!" she exclaimed irately as she shot a bullet beside his head as a warning; striking another creature about to disrupt their banter. It hit the head of the demon, which exploded in a black cloud of sand as predicted but it seemed more had begun to spring out again, one lifting their scythe, ready to cleave the stranger in two.

He moved insanely fast, dodging the swipe with apparent ease and grace, flipping his chrome silver gun out with a flick of the wrist and firing; his long jacket fluttering slightly to expose muscles shifting under the skin as he moved.

_Dammit. He moves _fast._ He must be a demon or something, there's no way a human could do that._ She had never seen someone move with such refined movements as he smoothly reached back and pulled his sword out, clashing with the senseless demons. She stood riveted, unable to help for a second but blinking away the slight respect that just began to climb up a few rungs; she chided herself for being so ridiculous.

Lifting her gun, she was about to fire when a swipe to one and a shot to another finished the fight in a veil dust.

_If he really was a devil then he'd have to go as well. What a shame_. He certainly didn't seem to be a messenger from her father and he wouldn't have really wanted to eliminate all those demons if he was one.

"Hope you enjoyed the show, cause I don't do these for free, ya know." The stranger said slyly.

Narrowing her eyes, she gave a distinct "Hmph!" and turned on her heel; heading off around the corner towards the entrance of the stairwell and away from the irritatingly attractive stranger.

…

_Damn, I'm hungry; it's been, what, sixteen hours since I last ate? I better have put that bar in the bag_.

She holstered her left gun and swung her pack to the front, rummaging for the muesli bar she had placed into her slingbag. With some success, she produced a flattened and bent bar out of the bag. _Good enough._

Walking around the deserted hallways of the ninth floor, looking for another set of stairs, each level was beginning to make her sick of the place. It was slightly beautiful in its own gothic, morbid way but seeing the same dreary, dark décor on every floor was getting tiring.

As she opened the wrapper, she winced at the amplified crinkle of the packet, echoing throughout the vast corridors. Well, if there were going to be any demons springing up on her anytime soon, she'd need her energy right?

Striding through the small antechamber, she started up the long flight of steps, a gun in one hand and mixed-berry muesli in the other.

…

The lone figure stood before the gate of the Guardian Cerberus; gazing fondly at the slumbering, giant sentinel. It was frozen in ice, entranced into a spell cast long ago, it looked like any canine – apart from the three heads it possessed. As the tower's first line of defence, there was no doubt it would have been fierce and menacing when awake but for now, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Swathed in dark black clothing, he now donned a black velvet simple cloak, covering his head and shrouding his face. Dangling down to the chest was a familiar pendent, suspended by a thin gold chain. The pendent consisted of a gold triangle with its point facing downwards, set in a thin circle of gold with three bands extending from the centre.

Walking past the creature, he gave one of its massive paws a light pat and strode to the centre of the double door mesh gates, where a small circular groove was imprinted into a round, metal globe that protruded from the centre of the adjoining doors. The figure raised two hands to tilt the hood of the cloak back; the clack velvet falling back with ease to reveal shoulder length dark hair.

Reaching behind his head, he lifted the gold chain around his neck and pulled it over his head. With the pendent in one hand, he placed the think gold into the grooved imprint on the door. Positioning his bare fingers into the dotted grooves of the circular rim that surrounded the centre pendent, he turned clockwise twice and anticlockwise once, until a dull click sounded from within the gates.

A series of shifting bars and hooks, followed by a dull thud meant the gate was now opened to him and would be for 5 seconds, until it would lock itself once again. Carefully taking the pendent out and replacing the gold chain back to where it belonged, the stranger took a step forward and melded into the mesh doors, striding back out of the gate on the other side.

With a glance behind his back towards the gates, he reached behind to grasp the hem of the hood and lifted it back over his head. The slide of metal on metal and another dull thud indicated that the gate was closed.

…

"Arkham. Have you deciphered the code yet?" Without turning his back, Vergil asked stiffly. Unused to making requests of any kind let along help, his years spent depending on himself made it hard to adjust to the presence of another person, although he had been in the human world for roughly a year now.

His slicked back platinum hair fluttered in the breeze as his cold, intense blue eyes scanned the horizon. His appearance hadn't changed much in the last year, still the same hair, maybe slightly longer, sculpted lips, prominent cheekbones, straight nose; he didn't really age as much in the demonic realm as he would in the human dimension.

"It is almost complete, the runes carved upon the door are more complex than expected but it will be finished in time." the seated figure behind him replied in a calm and deep voice.

There was no further response to the answer as Vergil continued to gaze out into the vast city below from the balcony as the tiny human specks ran around, trying to escape the beasts unleashed by the tower or tried in vain to help the injured.

_There was no aid back then; I suppose it only seems fitting that no one will be able to aid them._

After living in the shadows, researching and honing his skills, his hatred for those he once dwelled amongst: the weak, purposeless creatures grew more and more. The memories of that last day kept replaying over and over in his mind; fuelling his anger and abhorrence for humans.

………………Flashback……………….

They were running faster and faster, desperate to get back to their mother.

_Shouldn't have gone, should have stayed! Shouldn't have raced Dante to the hill; stupid Dante! _Vergil berated but he could only focus on his mother and finding her quick.

It was the vortex of thick black cloud, surrounded by the electrical storms that raged over the sleepy village of Lornesberg that had alerted them. They had never seen anything like it and that could only mean trouble.

The whirlpool of murky dark clouds had begun to pulse a scarlet red; the centre point of the clouds were dipping downwards towards the edge of the village like a tornado. Faint screams of terror could be heard as small dark blobs were dropping out of the funnel of clouds. It was an unbelievable sight, the drops of black liquid dripping out of a dark funnel that descended from the sky. What could be next? But upon further observation with heightened senses, the twins had seen the small droplets unfurl in the air to form a humanoid figure before dropping into the cover of small houses and buildings.

They knew what these creatures were; what they were preying on – they wanted to kill. _All the more reason to get to her._ Their father wasn't around anymore; he had left so it was up to them to protect the remaining family and keep it together.

They reached the edge of town in four minutes, the centre Town Square in two minutes with their speed and were now weaving their way to the other side of town. They rounded the corner of the street stall intersection just in time to see a young brunette being torn apart: her arm had been sliced cleanly just below the elbow, her other arm was just hanging on by a strand of skin and muscle. In front of her were two menacing demons whose eyes glowed ruby red as if in bloodlust. The woman was hysterical at this point, sobbing and struggling to sit upright as she shrieked for help. They snapped their heads midway in their attempt to impale her stomach with their blades, to stop the squealing when they heard the twins' panting.

The horror on their faces was evident but as much as they wanted to, help was not going to arrive in the form of two young boys, who were defenceless against large malevolent creatures that wielded blades forged into wicked shapes.

The young twins were stunned slightly, having never encountered such creatures in battle, they shrunk back to cover their heads as the two demons were preparing to strike them down.

"Vergil! Dante! Get back!" Their mother, Eva, was sprinting towards them, gripping a sleek sword and swiped upwards just in front of the twins to deflect the oncoming blow both demons were to inflict. Swivelling on her right foot, she swiftly sliced the left demon in half while it was momentarily stunned and quickly swung the sword back around over her head to sweep the oncoming scythe safely to the side. With a spinning roundhouse, the remaining demon was knocked back and she took the opportunity to neatly decapitate the creature.

Taking in the scene around them, the brothers realised they weren't the only ones in the immediate area. There were people everywhere, running in all directions, desperate to run away from the creatures that materialised from seemingly thin air.

The demons stalked the streets looking for flesh and picking people off with their blades one by one. The villagers were lost – some were too frightened to strike out as they watched their fellows being struck down by an unseen force and just fled, screaming. Some were striking desperately in any direction they could with anything they could get their hands on, watching as other bodies were being ripped apart by invisible hands and blades.

A young boy was stabbed through the throat by a skeletal demon wielding a scythe; its thorny bones wrenching the gasping child closer, eyes blazing into the boy's terrified and stunned face. It watched as the light behind the eyes faded before sinking its sharp jagged teeth into the soft flesh. The blood was like a revitalising lift for the dead. Strands of sinewy muscle was interweaving over each other as clumps of bloody tissue was formed underneath. Patches of pale slimy cells were forming over the surface of the muscles, moulding the body of the demon to a more recognisable form of a human.

_What are they doing? Can't they see them? Why aren't they fighting back? _Vergil thought naïvely as another body was thrown down and stabbed; a jet stream of blood shooting out as an artery was punctured. He felt so helpless, knowing that he couldn't wield a sword like his father; he could pretend to be like him when he practised but that was different. Practising and actually fighting with an enemy were two different things. He didn't even have a sword at hand! All he and his brother could do was stare at their mother clash with the demons.

Flipping her sword in her hand deftly, she slashed through one Hell Pride and brought her blade gracefully upwards while she spun around to cut the upper torso of another. They were beginning to converge on her now, ignoring the other helpless pieces of meat running about the place and lying on the ground. They knew that this one could see and this was the one they'd been looking for.

The heaviness of the blade protruding from the front of her right side added to the pain while the wound was weighed down. Eva grasped the hilt of the blade and yanked hard, gritting her teeth. The first jolt of pain ran through her body as she let go of the scimitar, hurling the weapon a few feet away as a small snarl escaped her lips. The white hot pain was burning her insides as she desperately tried to fend off the onslaught of more demons, attracted to the trickle of fear she let escape. Her hold on the control of the fight was waning rapidly and they were eager to taste and revel in her defeat.

"Run! Run Dante! Get him out of here Vergil! Go!" Eva yelled hoarsely as she saw her youngest twin standing there dazedly, shocked by the sight in front of him. She knew what he saw: a human mortal, one hand clutching a bloody hole in her side briefly and an equally bloodied sword as she tried to run towards them, urging them to get away and hide for their own sake.

Her own angels from the heavens. Pure silvery mops of hair, pale skin and beautifully sculpted features. All features of their father, exact carbon copies.

Vergil could only watch as their mother screamed at them to get away, rasping wetly with the blood flooding her lungs and trickling at the corner of her mouth. Then she stiffened as a sword ran her through from behind and she dropped to her knees. The end of the blade had exited her chest and she knew this was the end for her as her fingers became unresponsive, the sword falling from her fingers as her vision began to blur at the edges. Hot tears were springing into her eyes.

Widening her eyes to gaze at her beloved children one last time, Eva whispered to them in a hushed, thick voice, the blood overwhelming her ability to speak aloud.

Amid the growls, screams and moans emanating from the background, Vergil only saw Eva, heard her clearly whisper the words through the tears, "Take…care …protect ….love…you…"

And then the blade impaling her chest was swiftly jerked out, the pain so excruciating that her back arched and she let escape a small cry before slumping forwards. She didn't move after that.

"Nnnnnnooooooooooooooo!"

Vergil thought it was his own voice screaming, but the figure beside him had shot forward to their mother's still body. Catching Dante by the arm reflexively, he held him back as the demons momentarily forgot about the body at their feet and advanced forward.

"Run Dante!" Vergil shouted. And they both ran as far as down the street, leading the pack of demons part way. They were sobbing as they ran in a random direction, their tears streaming down their cheeks, frightened for what would happen to them next, frightened for their future.

But Vergil felt something else, something angry within his soul. It wasn't fair! Their father had gone and though he was the one who was supposed to protect the innocent, the legendary Sparda couldn't protect his own family. They never stood a chance; no one would help them and no one cared. They were too busy thinking about themselves, running for their lives._ Well, I won't! I'm not gonna run anymore!_

"I'm not running anymore!" he shouted to no one in particular as he skidded to a stop. Dante crashed to his brothers' side; he was more subdued by now, his own sobs had ceased but he seemed to have It was up to him to protect the family now.

Tagging Dante by the wrist, Vergil yanked his brother's arm, leading him through a backway towards their mother. He knew this was a risk, but he had to defend himself and his brother.

He had to do something; it was kill or be killed.

There, next to their mother's prostrate body, was the sword she was given by their father as an anniversary gift. The low growl alerted them to the presence of demons; they hadn't left after all. Vergil lunged for the sword, its light blade allowed for quick strikes, an elegant weapon that suited their mother's graceful yet fierce nature.

With their limited experience in sword fighting, he shoved Dante aside, urging him to run for cover and get away.

"Get out of here Dante! You have to hide!" He glared at his brother hard; memorising the features that made Dante, his mirror image, his brother. He knew it would be sometime until he could see that image again, maybe in heaven – or hell.

Dante could only obey his brother's words numbly; unable to think, unable to register what had just happened. It was all a blur but he ran anyway, away from the noises and the light; he ran from the world outside and caved into himself.

Vergil was tiring as he swung the blade, deftly at first, bringing the sword to a spin from his left to his right to parry, block and stun his opponents, then attack swiftly but the continued drilling of the creatures was wearing him down. As much as he wanted to, his stamina was not matching up to his will; his moves were getting sloppy by the second, leaving gaping holes in his defence while the muscles on his arms were burning from the constant motion.

A slip of the guard and a blade cut through his flesh. Piercing his left lung and exiting through the back, he was skewered right through and it felt awkward, like something cold and wet being placed onto his skin. Vergil gasped as the blade was pulled out and he felt his lung compressing, pushing the air out. Blood was dribbling out of the corners of his mouth as the blood welled in his lungs.

_Is this how it's supposed to end?_

Then came the hot, searing pain as more jagged tips drove into Virgil's flesh; he was jerked backwards by the combined force of blades digging into his body and pinning him down onto the ground. The excruciating heat intensified as his body was wrenched forwards by the sharp withdrawal of the blades.

Letting his body fall back again, he was numb to the dull thud as his head hit the hard asphalt. The blood was flowing from his wounds in rivulets as he lay on the pavement.

It was beginning to darken quickly. Someone was calling him in the dimness…just couldn't make out who…

He had failed. He couldn't hold the family together.

_I'm sorry…father._

………………End Flashback……………….

"Just get it done." Vergil said crisply, not moving an inch as the other nodded his head and swept away leaving him to stand with the breeze sweeping his hair back. He thought back to Dante's behaviour when they first met a year ago, his long overdue visit was clearly a shock to his dear brother.

_It's been too long, Dante._ With that, he strode back through the swinging window door, into the tower to check on the progress of his beloved twin.

…

She watched the scene from her perched hiding position on the higher left window ledge as the tall silver haired man, who looked strikingly identical to the stranger she had met before bowed his head forward for awhile then stalked off after a short contemplative moment of silence.

_A door? What are they trying to open? _She mulled it over, unable to keep her gaze on the other figure until now. Tall, bald, still retaining that menacingly sinister aura; she had found him, but she wasn't going to let this new stranger (or was it the one from before?) get in the way.

_Whatever_, she thought to herself, _I'm not going to let some jerk get in the way of my business._

She'd have to wait and bide her time to get him alone if that stranger was anything like the other that she just met. _And then I'll make my move._

Watching them both leave one at a time, she waited a good deal of 10 minutes before she finally stood up and walked back inside, rolling her feet briefly to return some form of feeling in them after crouching for so long. She hitched the Kalina Ann higher on her back and traced her steps back down one level, unsure of where to go next. _Could they have gone up one or down one?_

She was careful not to bump into either her father or that familiar stranger as she wound her way around the overcast corridors and found the same balcony she was spying on previously. Stepping through the window doors, she felt odd. Standing so far up from the ground, she could still hear clearly the distinct cries, moans and growls coming from below as if she were really down there.

It was all the more reason to stop her wretched father from doing whatever he was going to do and that stranger as well since he seemed to be commanding all the instructions, which was unusual at best. Her father would never have been able to take orders from other people like a servant so why was he being so submissive now? Something odd was going on here. She mulled over the possibilities of her father's plans, while she sat down to the bottom of one of the many statue platforms and took the chance to reload all her weapons.

_He said that the door had complex runes on it…a door…but where does it lead to…?_ He was obsessed with the underworld so the only logical conclusion was that he wanted to go to the demonic realm but why would he do that…?

………………Flashback……………….

"I'm warning you right now! You stay away!" she yelled through the pelting rain. She aimed the gun at him, her hair plastered to her face as she panted harshly. Her eyes began to cloud over as hot tears stung and trickled down her cheeks, mingling with the blood and rainwater. Her head throbbed partly from the blow her father had inflicted when he tossed her to the wall like a rag doll.

"You really thought this insignificant insect could replace your dear father?" He gestured to the heap lying on the ground at his feet. A pool of blood was washing away in the pouring rain.

He had changed drastically since she saw him two years ago in that horrible mansion; now, his appearance had degenerated to a passive mask: one side of his face had a disgustingly wet sheen to the wrinkled skin which writhed every few seconds like worms wriggling underneath; his incandescent burgundy and indigo grey eyes seemed to radiate an unnatural light from the pupils while the cornea was bottomless black. He had changed, become so inhuman; he killed Vern, her mentor, friend and father – currently lying in his own blood with a gaping mortal wound on his chest, he killed her mother and now he was going to kill her as well.

She felt so cold inside, so alone, so betrayed by the turn of events that had taken away her happy family and her innocence, leaving her alone to rot in the streets. Only Vern could have helped but even he couldn't protect her from her father.

_No, he's not my father at all… a monster, that's what he is._ She wanted to scream at him, curse at him, beat him till he was lifeless and cold. He only smiled a sinister smile, sensing her rage swelling up inside her chest.

"Do you see now? Only I can help you become stronger by giving yourself to their power," he spread his arms around him to the dark figures shifting in the shadows, "by beco-"

"That's enough!" she screamed; she was seeing red now, her revulsion plain on her face for what he was saying, his praises for a race that was so cruel and evil, so malevolent and wicked, so _inhumane_. She realised her hands were tightly gripping the gun that she was trembling and to her horror, she couldn't stop the wavering of the gun in her hands; her head pounded and she could barely string together proper sentences. Her sudden weakness was all he needed to confirm that she was not going to win this encounter.

She shot two bullets towards his chest. The first bullet connected but her trembling hands and light-headedness tossed her aim off on the second shot, the bullet whizzing past his ear and striking the brick wall behind him, dusting powdered grit and flakes of brick to the ground.

Flung back, he staggered back, stepping a foot back to regain his balance. The bullet had pierced him straight through one of his lungs and a sick sucking sound could be heard as air whooshed out of the wound, collapsing a lung. Mary gaped in awe as she saw the wound, as large as her small fist, begin to close up, the skin reforming from the outer edges of the wound; covering the new muscles, knitting itself together again.

_What the…?_

Arkham let out a low chuckle as he watched Mary's face.

"I hope you aren't disappointed – you know your father cannot be easily disposed of. I wanted to surprise you; you see, you too can have this power. You can be invincible as well! Just follow me…"

………………End Flashback……………….

She understood now, it was all coming together now. The experiments, the ancient texts.

A _demon_. That's what he wants to be.

She stood up. The stakes were higher now, someone that dangerous should not be let out into the world.

Adjusting Kalina Ann on her shoulder, she turned, taking a few steps back to the balcony entrance when all of a sudden she heard a deep voice echo in all directions. She froze at the chill that ran up her spine as the slick voice resonated in her mind.

"So, we meet again…Mary."

* * *

**AN**: Yay! Vergil finally appears! I hope the characters don't sound dorky or too ooc.

Tyrant Hamster: Noted and considered – thanks heaps for pointing out the silly mistakes; I got so sick of rewriting that chapter over an over but I'm glad you're enjoying it! Expect changes front, left, centre cause I'm not following the game script...much... ;P

Chrome: Your words are so encouraging, thank you for taking the time to review! I won't be doing any of the 'good stuff' in here coz I'm so crap at it I don't wanna embarrass myself!


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Yay! DMC 4! sigh…the only thing I have to say is: Nero looks goooood-o…:P hehe. Can't say the same for Dante O.o **Enjoy** the chapter and **review** please!

**:Six:**

…5 hours earlier…

Montoya had seen a lot of ugly demons and creatures in his relatively short life as a mercenary with specialties but this was crazy.

_Who the hell left so much destruction and what the hell _was_ all that sticky stuff!_ He grumbled, lifting up a leg to see strands of sticky gunk, trailing from his boot. From where he stood on the splattered ledge before the sea of black, gummy goo, he bent down to gingerly touch the dark, sticky substance next to his foot, rubbing it between his fingertips. It definitely wasn't human blood - coagulated or not. Taking a quick sniff of the smeared substance, he winced with a sour expression; it definitely wasn't a common Hells' demons' blood either: this was much more rancid and putrid.

With a swipe onto his fatigues, he gripped firmly to his M4 and stepped further to the edge of the ledge where there seemed to be a mass of rock and debris littered over something glistening underneath in the centre of the pit. Apprehensive of what that something could be, he had no intentions of finding out. His deep, forest green eyes scanned the immediate area for another path through the dimly lit passageway; the only directions out were either up through the enormous hole formed from the collapsed ceiling, or forward, going around the scattered debris in the pit.

_It's a _long_ way up to the ceiling. _He thought. _Looks like there's no other choice but the sand pit. Better get back first_.

He turned from the ledge and began to walk back towards the entrance way of the passageway where his partner was on watch.

Something in the air raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck; tiny prickles from invisible needles stung at his cold, sweaty palms. They were instinctual signs that alerted him subconsciously, prepared him for a slight movement as soon as the pit was about to leave his peripheral view. A slight twitch of a muscle and then a shift in the clustered, damp sand and the spiked arm or appendage of some sort shot out towards his body.

Swivelling back just in time to duck away from the dangerously sharp barbs, Montoya began to open fire at the limb, not really thinking of the consequences. As soon as the first few bullets pierced the tough skin, more limbs flew out from below, aiming to spear the warm piece of moving flesh.

Eyes widening at the multitude of spiked needles speeding towards him, he crouched low with his feet slightly spread and sprang backwards, flipping to avoid the lashing appendages. A quick flash of steel in the dim light and the five appendages were flailing in the air; sharp clicks as the needle points from the tip of each appendage clacked on the stone ground. The stubbed limbs thrashed once more in the air and flopped back over onto the broken debris of the ceiling.

As he dropped to a crouch, he saw that his partner had once again saved him from further wasting ammunition. Long, straight, black hair tied back low at the nape of her neck, her small and compact form stretched out with each hand, deftly swinging her dual daggers; his sister was a petite but definitely competent fighter.

"Nice of you to help out," he began with a sarcastic tone. "When were you thinking of joining in the fun, Selest? I coul-"

"When I felt like it and you wouldn't have." She quipped, her serene voice cutting him off before he could finish. Her brother's emerald eyes narrowed in response but didn't say anything. Instead, he shook his dark head, shouldered his weapon and wandered ahead to the ledge that overlooked the messy destruction of the ceiling to survey their next move.

Selest silently walked next to him, evaluating the possible exits, unperturbed by the mess that ran along the walls and ground. Staring at the gaping hole in the ceiling, Montoya was definitely _not_ going to go through the damn pit of hell.

"Well, looks like the only way is up; unless you wanna swim in that gunk." He gestured to the pit of slimy sand. He took off his pack and fumbled around for the grappling gun that he had packed. With a snap, he slid the hook in place and turned to his sister expectantly.

Slipping her blades into their sheaths at her hips, she reached up to encircle her arms around his neck.

"Don't try anything funny." She warned, glaring at his mischievous grin.

"You're my baby sister," he replied, amused at her wariness. He wrapped an arm around her waist and aimed the hook through the gaping hole in the ceiling to a pillar on the floor above before shooting off one last remark, "why would I do that?"

…

Instinctively, she lifted both her arms, a weapon in each hand, pointed towards the voice she would always remember; the silky, soothing voice that lulled her to sleep at night, that read stories of fantastical creatures and dark knights, that filled her heart with pride when he praised her work.

Then she remembered his inky profile as he emerged from the shadows; half his face highlighted in nauseating, neon blue; contrasting in the dark, murky gloom when she looked up from her mother's cold, dead body. No, this was a stranger that had no face; a wolf in a sheep's skin, a chameleon to the darkness. This was someone who had sold his soul to the Devil and did all His bidding.

She didn't have a father anymore, that man had died along with Mary that night she found out the truth behind her family. The truth that shattered her dreams, hopes and happiness; a truth that she had lived with chaos for all those years and never knew, never noticed. But she knew now and that was all that mattered. _Just pull the trigger and you can end everything. All the pain, all the sadness._

Mary kept her weapons trained on him, never faltering, her feet planted firmly to the ground, narrowed eyes focused on the figure in front of her and nothing else.

_This is it. I _won't_ fail again… I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. I ca…_

"You've grown, Mary. How long has it been, dear _daughter?_ It's good to see you so disciplined. Stronger."

A corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. She _had_ grown. Grown to look just like her worthless mother. Grown stronger. No longer was she the insignificant, useless and frail-looking Mary that she used to be. Now, standing before him was a completely different individual; a woman holding herself upright without a quiver of fear or hesitation. She was strong and it seemed that she had learned to overcome her inner reservations of fear – made evident by the various ridiculous instruments of death that she adorned herself with. Replacing the fear with anger, how predictable human behaviour was. Fear made her stronger, vengeful, hateful and with such a temper that she was currently displaying, she would be lashing out at any moment. The other corner of his mouth lifted a fraction higher.

"Don't call me that name!" she snapped, just talking to him was making everything ten times worse. _Stop talking and pull that trigger!_ "Ever. Again My name, is _not_ Mary." She bit out; feeling the trickle of burning hate spread through her veins. _Stop wasting time! Finish it!_

"It's been six years and I've waited a _long_ time for this." She steadied her aim, knowing that this was too easy. Something felt off. It wasn't there the last time she confronted him; it was like he _wanted_ her to shoot him. Stay there and be a good doggy.

Pulling the triggers, bullets burst forward straight towards their target, but in the blink of an eye, he disappeared. There wasn't anything other way to describe it. One second he was there, the next second he was gone from sight, no sign of movement or wisp of a breeze. Her eyes widened as she turned her head left, then right, immediately alert.

"Yet I have waited longer for this moment, dear _Mary_." His baritone voice rang out, pronouncing her name like a sour taste in his mouth.

Spinning around, there he stood, a ghost of a smile on his disgustingly smug face; laughing at her stupidly stunned expression.

"I have waited twenty-two years for this opportunity and now I have you, in my palm." _Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him!_ Her mind was screaming at her now and she could only comply. Lifting her arms, Mary was too late.

Raising both his hands, he swiped her arms swiftly up and away from his body, wrapping long fingers around her wrists in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, only to lash out with his foot into her stomach, sending her flying back high into the rough, granite wall.

Maintaining her focus, Mary dropped to the ground in a crouch, still clutching her weapons in either hand and aiming them directly at their targets. She grunted in pain at the force of the hit to her abdomen; a dull ache throbbing in her shoulder blades from hitting the hard wall, also meriting a gasp as the uneven, rough surface dug into her back. _So strong, like last time_. It seemed like every time she met him, he would always be stronger than her, would always defeat her.

But something still felt different, like he had something dragging him down by the ankles _Something feels so _wrong

Seeing her so-called father smirk, she renewed her efforts; a burst of rapid gunfire blasting forth as she ran forward, arms still outstretched. Seeing her stupidly bold tactic, he moved his body aside and grabbed her right arm with a tight grip, swinging her forward and making her lose her balance.

Counting on such a move, Mary twisted her upper body around to shoot at Arkham with her left gun. Another burst of shots rang out; four dull thuds followed by another, accompanied with a sharp crack, indicated hits on flesh and bone. She held out a hand to break her fall, still clutching her weapon, Mary used the momentum to flip forward with one hand; scraping skin on her knuckles on the rough surface of the floor but her focus remained on the target. Currently lying on the ground, her father was slowly trying to rise; a hand on the ground and a leg propped up, he leant his body sideways to get up.

Raising both her weapons, she walked forward two steps, watching him glare at her with a hollow, glowing glint in his eyes; a passive expression that held no fear or any feeling at all for what was to come next. _No comeback? He's not going to fight back? Is this what it looks like to be defeated? _

She wanted to hear his pleas of mercy but she knew there would be none. As low as he was, he would not beg or cry out for leniency because she wouldn't give any. Something was wrong and she knew it but what would it matter? She had him right here, just where she wanted him; she'd fantasised about the ways she could kill him and now she was going to fulfil her destiny. Everything else can just take a number and wait in line.

Fingers on the triggers, she watched him smile, a small, secretly, knowing smile and that only made the pain and rage burn brighter in her heart. For all that this monster had done, she was going to send him back to hell.

With that, she pulled the triggers, gazing at how his body jerked every time a bullet punctured his skin and sliced straight through him. She knew that one or two bullets would have no affect on him as experience had shown; she needed to riddle his body, tear it up to shreds to know that he wouldn't be able to haunt her ever again.

But even as the bullets jolted his body, he was still standing, trying to maintain his balance. _Why won't he just die!_

So she kept shooting, kept her fingers on the trigger, her mind screaming out for him to just keel over and die but she never stopped shooting, only until both weapons hollowly clicked empty.

Dark, blood pooled slowly underneath the mutilated body, spreading outwards in a rough circle, reaching her boots but Mary could only stare at the motionless body. Lying on his back, arms and legs splayed out, he was a bloody mess. There were gaping holes all over the front of the body, some in the neck and on the upper limbs: all oozing black, thick blood.

_Was he really dead? Could it really have been that easy?_

Mary holstered her empty weapons and drew her Desert Eagle before stepping closer to the body; the blood dripping slightly from the sole of her boots with each step. Keeping her firearm trained on the body just in case, she nudged the foot with her boot once. No movement, no sign of a twitch.

Is this it? Am I supposed to be happy now? Where was the light that was suppose to come? Guide her back to peaceful times, of happy mummy, happy daddy and candy lands. A dream of a family, of sunshine and butterflies, while running through a meadow of tall daisies, brushing her shins as she ran through the fields. That's what everything was supposed to turn back into, right? She'd been hunting, chasing, fighting her way out of the wretched existence she led for the better half of her life; didn't she deserve a break?

Isn't this how it was supposed to end? Her pain, her sorrow, her agony and her torture. Shouldn't there be a reward for all that she had been through?

Her brows furrowed as her eyes narrowed. _For all that she had lost?_

…Flashback…

It was raining like it had every other night. The damp concrete pavement of the sidewalks glistening with dirty, murky water and the occasional puddles. The dull, artificial light of the street lamps set off a sallow luminance to the passers-by that were hurrying to get to shelter, away from the pouring rain. Men in their grey trench-coats hunched their backs and drew their collars tighter, while the women bunched their shoulders and clasped their scarves closer to their necks – each set of eyes were downcast. Each breath exhaled was let off as a white mist of steam. The thud of tiny droplets hit the fabric of umbrellas as cars whooshed past on the road, kicking up water on the sidewalk only to rain back down onto the legs of the unfortunate pedestrians.

It was freezing cold, cold enough that ice was beginning to form along the pavement. Bunching her own shoulders, Mary stuffed her hands into the pockets of her scruffy jacket. Walking further down the sidewalk, her boots clapped into a puddle, sending droplets of grimy water onto pristinely pressed pants and snowy, panty-hose covered legs; earning her various vicious glares. Her own tired and worn jeans were soaked through at the legs and all she wanted was to get away, find some nice, dry place to sit down, maybe try to buy something hot with the limited money she had.

Everyday, living had meant to find some means of finding a scrap of food for dinner by any means necessary. Not the 'sell your body' means, she wasn't going to resort to that if she had any say; it was the 'sell your _special _services to the highest bidder' means. The kind of service that was unique to one line of field; the type where elimination was desired. It was always to stick close by to the shadows, always shy away from curious glances and gaping stares at the ludicrous notion that a girl, innocent, petite and pretty as her could ever mix into such an unruly, disreputable profession. Because while she may have been once virtuous and innocent, one glance at the firm set of her eyes would have warded off any line of thought.

Sadness? Sorrow? Anguish? Grief? Angst? Her so-called aunts and uncles - family acquaintances more so - would coo over her, comment on her blissfully praising her 'parents' for producing such a beautiful daughter. They said that her eyes were windows to her sweet, angelic soul. They were right, weren't they?

Her soul had been twisted and shaped to a darker, distorted and perverse path; she could feel the change, the differences of what she used to be, what she was now, what she should have been compared to other girls her age. A child, that's what she used to be, what those girls were. A scared little girl. Pathetic. If she was given a second chance, she would have killed _him_ in a heartbeat had she heard his despicable voice, right then and there.

Staring straight back up at the faces around her, through sopping wet hair, she trudged further along the sidewalk before turning around the corner, into a dark alleyway. The end of the alleyway was dim; no light reached the walls of the seemingly dead-end except for a faint glimmer that reflected a minute gleam of radiance from the street lamp on the main walkways. It didn't matter either way, she knew her way around like the back of her hand. Taking another turn to the right, she headed forward past the alley and turned right again, facing was looked to be nothing but a brick wall – one couldn't really tell in the dimness. Only a faint glisten of beaded water on a circular key hole panel, could one really see the outline of a door through the gloom. On the other side of the door would be her home.

A home. Her sanctuary, which _he_ didn't know about.

Knock once, knock three times, then knock once, and twice more after that. That was the way they always did it, for their own safety, of course. It seemed like a childish cubby house rule: to knock in Morse code fashion but in actual fact, it wasn't childish at all. It was the only thing they could do to distinguish themselves from the creatures that tried to impersonate people; tried to penetrate their fort.

That was the way Vern had taught them.

_Always got to be vigilant. They may be stupid and slow, but once they find flesh and blood, mimicking their prey isn't all they can do._

It was so frightening at first. All that knowledge packed into one night. When she was exhausted from blindly running around the streets, she couldn't bear the ache in her legs, the burning in her raw lungs as she ran to nowhere. But she did stop and she collapsed on the sidewalk of the wet, dirty and rough pavement. All feelings of pain and grief washed away as the rain beat across her upturned face. She had stared up towards the sky; watched and thought deliriously as the tall buildings surrounding her vision leaned inwards, ready to collapse on top of her, trapping her within the debris. She had closed her eyes, the drumming of rain drops beating on her eyelids and slapping her cheeks.

A hand had jerked her body upwards, lifting her up, away from the cold, frigid winds and a gush of warmth blasted through as she was carried into somewhere noisy and bright. _Who…?_ She had thought dazedly. After more clunking footsteps it was more quiet and darker but definitely more warmer. Opening her tired eyes, he had set her down on a soft, plush couch next to a fireplace. She opened her mouth unwillingly, tried to say something, but the only sound that came out was a raspy, incoherent "I…"

Kneeling down to her level, he said in a soft and gentle but slightly gruff voice, "I know."

With that, she had closed her heavy eyes, a small droplet squeezed out of the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek to mingle with the water beaded on her skin. Dropping her head down to her chest, she fell asleep with the stranger looking over her like an angel.

That was two years ago, and after learning of reality, Vern was still like an angel. Maybe that wasn't a good word to describe him. A guardian was more like it. He resembled a mentor more so with all that she had learned from him. He had taken her in after that incident and introduced her to her new family. A family of rag-tags, each special and skilled in their own unique way. And her? What was her distinctive _uniqueness_? Why was she different to any other homeless girl?

_Your eyes_. Was all he had said in reply with a knowing, thoughtful glint in his own eyes. _The moment I saw your eyes, I saw through your sorrow and found your strength._ He had later concluded.

A series of muffled slides of metal on metal and chains rustling behind the reinforced iron and steel door and light beamed from the opened door. The harsh contrast from the darkness made her eyes narrow and pupils constrict, but she walked through the door anyway. Adjusting to the sudden brightness, she took off her soaked jacket and pulled strands of soggy bangs away from her face.

"Thanks." she accepted the towel proffered and began to towel her short, close cropped hair dry.

"We've been waiting for you. You shouldn't have left without telling us where you were going, Mare." A soft voice rose from behind her as they walked to the 'lounge room' of the small accommodation that served as their headquarters. It was an abandoned building but they couldn't be too careful with their fortune. Being discovered was the last thing on their minds. Furnished with second-hand, used oddities, Vern had it decorated to resemble something slightly more comfortable.

"It wasn't for long. Just doing the usual housekeeping." The housekeeping meant keeping ears open for any signs of 'unusual' cases or jobs that called for specialty, hit-man work. In this line of field, they needed any kind of advantage and more pairs of ears meant better odds of survival for everyone.

"We just finished a job _and_ got a bucket load for it, settle down for a sec." a languid voice coolly interjected from the room ahead. Stepping into the lounge room, she saw that everyone had gathered; hands wrapped around a warm bowl of what seemed to be aromatic, hot chunky stew, which made her mouth water. The speaker gave her a look with forest green eyes and a crooked grin, amused at her bedraggled, drowned rat appearance and continued to scoff more food down.

"Tell one of us where you are next time." a slightly gruff, low voice spoke firmly. Vern was in between taking a mouthful of a piece of beef when he stared at her hard, his grey eyes boring into hers to drive his point across that he wasn't impressed. Her degree of freedom had some limits after all, even though she was thankful that he saved her.

Giving into the gaze, she maintained her dignity and pride; thankful or not, she still needed to get out to wriggle her toes once in awhile.

"Fine." She held her head up and strode over to the stove pot to scoop her own share of steaming hot stew before sitting down with the rest of her comrades, her family members and friends and began to eat.

…End Flashback…

It felt like a lifetime, remembering each face of her beloved second family. The only people that truly understood her; understood her more than anyone else she had known. Nothing was going to bring them back; she had known that from the start. She knew that although they were gone, their souls still screamed for justice but what would she get in return?

The control she held, what she _had_ held just moments – or was it an hour? – ago felt so powerful and overwhelming; it lifted a huge weight from her heavy heart. But remembering their faces, Vern's face, her mother's beautiful, caring face. Nothing could bring them back. Not even scum like this would be able to erase the past memories that forever burned themselves into the back of her eyelids.

Her arms suddenly felt weak, felt like they weighed ten tonnes and she dropped her aim on the prone figure before her feet. It was over. There was nothing left for her. There was still that character in blue but who was he compared to the evil that was on the ground and out for the count? He seemed to have ill intent but she wasn't a hero, let someone else take care of that. It wasn't her problem anymore.

Letting out a weary sigh, she looked up at the sky; hazy black shadows played on the dark, inky night sky. It was time to get some rest for her weary body; she desperately needed to drop her head onto a nice, soft, cushiony pillow.

Relaxing her shoulders, her fingers loosely grasping her weapon, she stared down at the gun. _In loving memory_, it had been inscribed. Sometimes people had to let go of them once in a while.

Holstering the weapon, she hitched Kalina Ann higher; readying herself for the long trek back down the tower and turned to face the balcony entrance, heading towards the door.

A squeak sounded from behind her and she froze in her tracks, eyes wide. Another squeak and a series of sickening cracks, sounded through the silence of the balcony. Mary spun around with her Desert Eagle immediately drawn. Her eyes widened further as she saw her father's body stand upright, the squeak of his shoes sliding on the slick blood on the marble tiles. The figure fully stretched upright, a ghastly smile playing on its disfigured face; her father's once noble profile completely shattered by the blood and gaping holes.

Fully stretched as it was, her father's body was still hunched a bit to one side, the figure seemingly leaning more to its left side. A low, throaty moan escaped the blackened lips of the figure as its eyes gleamed ruby red. With tentative and clumsy movements, it took a step forward, as though careful not to slip in the thick, black blood. She aimed her weapon, ready to shoot at the creature again. Was this really her father?

Another anguished groan and the figure bent down, back hunched over completely as a ripping sound emanated from the body. Material was ripping as Mary stood, watching her father's skin literally split in half as bones from the spinal cord flexed upwards, thorny spikes protruding out from each vertebra and barely covered by muscle tissue at the spine. Lifting its head, the glowing red eyes stared back at her, skin was stretched to its limits and was torn around the sides of the mouth as the jaw flexed open impossibly wide: something that resembled a ghostly smile revealed sharp, jagged teeth. The clothes stretched around the body was torn and ripped at the arms and legs as sharp, bony pikes protruded from each joint. The hands lengthening, stretching the skin to the point of breaking and revealing raw, red flesh; forming bony, sharpened claws.

_What the hell was that!_

She began to shoot, not stopping to run from the thing that was half crouching, half standing before her. Mary fired off two shots before the creature suddenly sprang at her with a savage snarl. She only had a quick second to decide her next move and she jumped sideways to avoid the clash. Tucking in her head with her hands held out before her, she made to roll over to the side of the balcony but was stopped when something latched onto her ankle. Without a second to consider her situation, she was flung off the ground and into the air, spinning head over heels.

…

Falling down from the balcony felt like an endless process. Her heart felt like it was going jump out of its ribcage as soon as she was tossed into the sky. With her quick reflexes, Mary swung Kalina Ann across to her front and quickly aimed the ballistic towards the ridge of the only protruding and sturdy-looking structure above, which happened to be the bottom structure of another balcony. Desperately hoping that the compact grapple hook within the multipurpose weapon was able to sustain her weight, she flicked the catch to release the safety and pulled the trigger.

A second later, her falling figure was jerked to a stop by the waist strap of her weapon and she was reeled back upwards at an incredibly slow pace. Dangling on the end of thin wire, she was swinging wildly from side to side, feeling unbelievably vulnerable. Another guttural snarl followed by a shriek shattered the silence of the night. Holding her breath, she glanced up, wary of her precarious situation as she saw the ghastly creature draped in tatters of grey fabric, leapt up to climb the side of the tower. Its glistening flesh shimmering in the dim light as sharp claws dug into the stone of the tower, the pale, spiny bones of the vertebrae bobbed as it began to clamber up the ledge and leaped straight into one of the windows of the upper floors.

Letting out her breath, she could only hope that when the reel of her ballistic finally pulled her past _that_ window, the creature wouldn't jump out at her.

…

She was so…fiery. Something his deceased _spouse_ was not. Little Mary was now…perfected. His plan was going smoothly, indeed.

_It's time to take this little game to the next level; all the pieces are set. The only thing left was to give a little nudge and a push. _After all, he couldn't risk his dear daughter dying by herself in this lonesome, perilous tower.

His sneer widened to a manic smirk. _Everything was going _so_ well._

AN: More OCs! I don't believe that in the whole game, only Dante and Lady were the only brave souls to enter Temen-ni-gru. Where's the police when you need them:)

Thanks to the reviewers: Chrome, Tyrant Hamster, Bettany - hope this wasn't too long of a wait.


	8. Chapter 7

AN: Does anyone else hate that Katie chick from the DMC4 trailer? I hope she dies with that awful singing! XD

* * *

**:Seven:**

Shaking off the glass shards and dusting herself off, Mary swung Kalina Ann back to its resting position on her back. She glanced at her surroundings, noting how far up the tower she was; it seemed that she had dropped into a graceful hallway decorated by beautiful antiquities: paintings, statues, busts and chandeliers. Checking the vicinity, there didn't seem to be any demons lurking around the corner and it seemed relatively quiet, despite the racket she had made by crashing through the large, elegant window.

Mary sat down at a plush old fashioned leather chair and proceeded to reload her weapons. She needed time to regroup and collect her thoughts. _Just what the hell was that thing?_ The image of her father's body, doubling over and splitting apart, deforming to create a sickeningly repulsive monster kept replaying in her mind. It couldn't have been him. Technically, biologically, it defied all the laws. A human could not possible transform nor shape shift into another form, right? A demon was able shift to replicate their human prey but a human couldn't do that._ So what does that say for _him?

Her thoughts were disrupted by the guttural growl that emanated from down the shadowy entrance of the hallway. Quickly standing up and whipping out her machine pistol and hand gun in a fluid motion, the sight of the same creature, though slightly warped, stood on all fours, slowly approaching her. It was salivating with its protruding jaw hanging open to expose dangerously jagged teeth, razor-sharp claws clicking on the marble tiles. It had shed the confining clothes it was previously wearing, revealing disgustingly slick scales over the body while the spindles that ran across its back seemed to have lengthened to sharp points. The skin on its arms and legs were flaking off in pieces to reveal raw purple-blue flesh underneath. It was a grotesque sight, one that needed to be eliminated quickly.

With another roar that shook the windows, it reared forward, charging straight ahead.

…

It was her again. Just what he needed. Staring at ugly faces was getting a little monotonous for his taste; lucky for this lady, she just happened to be some nice curvy eye candy.

_The worst she can do is say no, right?_ He smiled a small smile, emerging from the entrance of the hallway and began to shoot the thorny creature from behind with Ebony. It reared back as the bullets tore at thick flesh. Running forward a few paces, the creature turned around, fed up with being shot at and jumped straight for the ceiling with surprising agility. Both hunters paused in their assault as they watched the creature position itself. Without waiting, the lady began to fire again, but the creature was too quick, springing off the corner of the ceiling to the other side of the hallway with more speed than was initially shown. Letting out a low growl, it watched them with beady red eyes darting back and forth, edging slowly along the ceiling with fluid movements.

_Time for a bit of sword play_. He pulled his enormous sword from behind his back and sprang up to meet the creature. Swinging his blade down, the demon deflected the blow with a swipe of its own claws. It began to crawl along the ceiling and the walls, circling behind the mystery woman.

_Smart cookie._ Using the tried-and-tested-female-hostage technique was not going to work on him. He bounded up the wall, running up to give him some height and swiped an upper slash that sent the creature dropping with a wince. Pushing from the wall, he slashed again at the creature mid-air and pulled Ivory from his holster, drilling several shots into the body before gravity pulled him back down to the ground.

Growling with more fervour, the wounded beast flipped back to its feet, the deep gashes on its body oozing black fluids. Dropping to a crouch, he deftly swung his sword in an arc, ready to pounce once more when a blast sounded and a rocket projectile zipped past, mere inches from his head, towards the creature. The scaled flesh contacted metal and the explosion that resulted was enough to send a shockwave through both hunters, propelled backwards by the force, they shielded themselves from the blast.

Shaking himself from the scattered window shards and parts of the walls and ceiling, he dusted himself off, seeing the feisty woman beside him do the same. Looking up, he saw the once elegant hallway was now a mess; its main centrepiece was now a thorny, black and charred lump of flesh. All the windows were shattered, the statues lining the place were destroyed and the walls were charred and cracking, chunks of the ceiling crashing down to the glossy marble tiles.

_This seems awfully familiar._ He mused as his memory recalled another mess much similar to this one.

Low groans and growls were coming from behind them as they took in the newly decorated scenery.

"The name's Dante," he said in a conversational tone, "and you are…?" he gave a slight tilt of the head at the lady as he swept his hand out in askance for a name.

The lady could only stare at his striking face, a look of exasperation blooming.

…

If there was ever a way to make it possible for all ridiculous fortresses to remove all their secret passageways and hidden rooms, he would have enforced it to be done immediately. Walking through the various flights of steps, passing a multitude of corridors, narrow passages and mysterious traps just to get to a chamber that would unlock the power of the tower, was becoming a complete nuisance.

Turning a corner of the corridor, Vergil stopped at an aging wooden door. Lifting the latch on the door handle, he pushed the door. Creaking open, the musty scent of an older world wafted to the corridor but Vergil ignored it without a beat and strode purposefully into the room. Torches that lined the walls bloomed to life; fragile flames fluttering, dancing along the walls to cast flickering lights about the room.

There were books everywhere; tomes and volumes of all sizes. They were strewn along the ground, roughly stacked in piles, lined up in rows on shelves which lined the walls underneath the torches – it was a library of sorts. But books were not what he was looking for. Making his way around the stacks of musty old books, he walked further between the book shelves and into a tiny, claustrophobic study room, complete with desk, oil lamp and sheafs of crinkly, fragile paper. Turning to look at his limited surroundings, he noticed a small shelf between the entrance and the adjacent wall with a narrow gap behind it. If what he was searching for was supposed to be here, then it was logical that someone would try to make it discreet. If he could just squeeze through it...it did seem possible.

Roughly shifting the shelf aside, he turned to enter the gap sideways. He straightened himself and began to shuffle sideways like a crab until he saw that there was an end to the tight passageway. Of the limited view that he was able to see, there was a wider room that was, like the previous library, lit by torches. Finally breaking away from the passageway, he came face to face with a bare room and a mural that spread across three whole walls of the room.

The frescoes were beautifully crafted, the relief of each figure was made with such detail that more lines and strokes could be revealed at different angles of light; however faint it seemed. Studying the walls one by one, he knew precisely what it depicted, although he had never seen the images before.

It was the great war of Morbec. The time when Hell finally broke its silence to wage a great war on Earth; its' last war. The war of Morbec was said to be the longest war between the humans and demons that lasted approximately 300 years. It was also the darkest hour for Hell's Prince, forced to retreat back into the murky depths of darkness, the demonic forces were overwhelmed in the Humans' last attempt to oust their invasion back. It was the attempt that finally gave light to the Legendary Dark Knight: Sparda.

_All roads lead back to the great knight, didn't it?_ He thought. Yet, there was something about the mural that made Vergil wonder about the knight in question.

The mural depicted three sinister, ruby-red glowing pinpoints in the gloom of the sky, while numerous demons of all types; many of the lower ranking demons were seen scattered around - some were battling with other figures, some were cowering from the grand figure of a larger devil, magnificently painted on a scale almost as tall as Vergil himself. Its wings were expanded, brandishing an impressive sword; great horns adorned the crown of the head and its body was braced for conflict.

In front of the figure who could be none other than Sparda himself, were human men in armour: broad shields in one hand and large, slightly curved swords in the other, covered head to toe in metal shielding. On the breast plate of each warrior, there was a symbol of a triangle encircled with lines that extended from the centre. However, the most peculiar feature of the mural was the fact that each human warrior possessed silvery-white, platinum hair underneath each winged helmet.

Vergil's eyes trailed from the long hair that flowed down under the cap of a human, to the symbol depicted on the figures' chest. The symbol of the Order. The so-called crusaders of humanity that stood against the dark Prince's legions and fought for humankind's freedom.

Freedom, was never going to be granted to birds with broken wings. Humanity _was_ their cage.

Humans had a quaint and naïve record of their history. Of course, the vast population would have no clue about such events; their ignorance towards the truth was a marvel.

Further studying the image of Sparda, a depression could be seen on the chest; slightly faint but visible all the same, it had an egg-like shape. Lifting a finger to the surface of the fresco, he brushed the dust away from the depression of Sparda's chest. A burning sensation emanated from his chest as soon as his fingertip touched the rough surface of the mural. His mother's amulet. Reaching behind his neck, he pulled the chain around his head, tugging the garnet amulet from the confines of his silk shirt; it was hot and glowing brightly from some internal source.

Ignoring the searing sensation, he held the amulet in his fingertips and positioned the pendent into the depression, pushing it into place until a ripple throughout the wall cascaded from the amulet. It felt as if he'd plunged his hand into liquid; his entire hand was immersed into the painting.

_So this is where it was hidden._ Preparing himself for the worst, he took a step forward.

…

"You've got a lot of guts trying to woo me in for the kill with those skills," Dante noted as he blasted the demon leaping up at him with one of his beautifully crafted handguns, "but its not gonna work, sweetheart!"

Mary only rolled her eyes as she somersaulted backwards away from simultaneous swipes of two blades. She shot the left demon in the face while dropkicking the one in front of her, snapping the neck and sending a burst of black sand into the air. _Why am I fighting alongside him again?_

With a powerful upward stroke of his giant sword, Dante eliminated the last of the demons in the vicinity.

"So, what's next?" he said eagerly with a playful tone, a curl at the corner of his lips was spreading.

She'd been a bit disturbed as she watched him fight before; she'd seen an avid, crazed glint in his eyes shine as he attacked, swiped and parried the blows from his opponents, like a lustful thirst for violence. It was reckless, impulsive and uncontrollable. It was beautifully graceful all the same but it screamed inhuman.

She'd watched on as he fought three demons simultaneously and had clearly seen one of the blades gash his cheek from under the eye down to the corner of his lip but she'd also seen how the skin zipped back together to conceal the injury, leaving unblemished, clear skin.

With that in mind, she had been slightly worried for her own wellbeing when she decided to stay with this stranger who fought with such fervour. Not as a partner; not with her track record of associates who ended up dead – a partner was out of the picture. Temporary or not, he was either a demon or superman and she was betting on the former so what was she doing fighting alongside a demon?

It went against all her principles, yet at the same time, much as she loathed admitting it, she did need help; she'd never been in a situation like this before and the tower was such an expansive area. If the stranger was eliminating more of those vile creatures then she'd tolerate his presence until it was time.

"Let's go. We still have to clear out this floor." It was like talking to a child sometimes, she had to guide him everywhere or else if she let him take the lead, they'd end up at the middle of nowhere.

Walking on in silence side-by-side, they treaded their way through the corridors, finding no other signs of life.

"So…" he began, "why exactly are you here? You never told me." Silence was their best friend for the past 10 hours and it seemed obvious that this guy desperately needed some human interaction besides demonic grunts and moans.

"That would be because you never asked. And why would I tell you? What would I get in return?" she didn't see the point in striking up a conversation with him. _What's this guy trying to get at?_ She wasn't accustomed to explaining her actions and she didn't feel like explaining what had happened with the previous creature or why the creature happened to be quite humanoid looking.

"Figured you needed to keep your mind off him." he remarked. "Those frown lines are going to turn into wrinkles, ya know." Winking at her, he strode up ahead, leaving her standing still, completely gob smacked. _How much did he see?_ And what was interesting was that he was trying to comfort her in a manly sort of way. She mentally shook her head and trotted forward to catch up to the silver headed figure.

"That _thing_ was supposed to be my-" she started to say, but saw that it was a ridiculous notion by the face he was giving her. Arkham was human, she was one hundred percent sure of that. "I mean…it looked like…but…it was…"

She stopped in her tracks and let out a sigh. _Are you listening to yourself?_

"What I meant to say, was that the creature was made in a likeness of someone I once knew, it couldn't have been the same _person_ because he was definitely human." she finally strung out, continuing her pace.

"So where do you think this _person_ is?" he asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere in this tower. Somewhere planning to kill me again." She said softly. _Just like he did _her. He would have to been in the tower; he had a door to open, didn't he? That would mean that he had tricked her, used a decoy in order to eliminate her. _Bastard. Coward! _She was so stupid to even contemplate the brief guilt that flitted through her mind! He was just luring her, playing with her, getting ready for the kill. It was just another testament of his sick and twisted mind.

A surge of seething rage spread along her veins as the more she thought about it, the more the feeling burned and prickled her skin. If she could do it again…if there was a next time, and she was sure there would be, she would make sure she killed all of those that he used against her. She would make sure that _he_ would die.

"But not before I do it first." She said before walking ahead of him.

…

With a whoosh, he put a foot forward to steady his balance as his body leaned heavily forward from the leap. He straightened his back and gazed at his surroundings; he was alone in a bare stone room lit by three torches embedded into the walls of each side, casting a hazy red gloom.

He silently moved forward to where a chain attached to pullies and cogs were currently running a slightly viscous, bubbling fluid through pencil-thin canals that spread its way around the room in a spider web-like weave. The thin channels concentrated into a recess that was carved into a pedestal embedded in the left wall.

He stared at the illuminated fluid, reflecting light to the ceiling with swirls of pale misty slivers.

'Sparda's blood is the key to the lock,' Arkham had said. _We'll see. _

Placing the amulet back around his neck and tucking it safely into his garments, Vergil gripped the hilt of Yamato at his side and slid the blade out from its sheath. Clenching his fist tightly around the razor-sharp blade, it sliced through the fingerless gloves that he wore, easily digging into his palm. Blood trickled out of the deep wound and Vergil held his hand out over the bath, letting the stone bowl catch the sacred drops of blood of the great Sparda. He watched as the red droplets fell to the solution only to sizzle and evaporate before touching the surface of the fluid, wisps of smoke trailing upwards.

A rush of dizziness came over him as the light emanating from the now bubbling water began to glow intensely white. His head began to ache with a dull, ache throbbing into his temples as a heavy weight pulled him downwards from his neck. Glancing down with forced control, he saw that his amulet was dragged down by some massive weight - the gold chain pulled taut.

His wounded hand unclenched the blade of his sword and made to quickly grasp the amulet away from the strong pull of the water, but a momentary lapse in his controlled balance and he nearly fell face first into the effervescent liquid. Flinging out the wounded hand onto the rim of the basin, a splash of sizzling liquid splattered onto the broken skin and an excruciating pang of pain immediately shot up his arm. With a gasp, he dropped to his knees, releasing his katana and clutching his wrist. He ripped the glove from his hand and stared at the open wound; it was now a raw, fleshy lesion that bubbled and crackled. Nothing had ever felt so agonizingly painful in his life and as the sizzle became more intense by the second, the dull throb in his temples turned into a sharp stab of piercing pain through his head. Stepping back a few steps, he clutched his head while he held his throbbing hand to his chest.

The floor was spinning on a diagonal axis now; he didn't dare look up at the room, knowing it could result in more nauseating consequences but he was spared from doing so when his vision began to get blurry, darkening as his head hit the cold dusty floor.

…

"Hey lady…! Woman! Hey come on, wake up now!"

She had dropped to the floor face first after she had commented something about her head pounding and needing some Aspirin while they walked through a dusty corridor, but all he could do was just tell her to 'suck it up, you're in the big league now' and the next second, she'd dropped like a fly.

"Dammit! I didn't mean to be _that_ nasty. Geez, it's just a saying!" he exclaimed as he tried to awaken her. But when he turned her over and shook her shoulders gently, he noticed the way her eyes shifted from side to side rapidly under her eyelids, never pausing.

_Freaky…_ He pulled a face but continued to attempt to wake her anyway.

…

It was the same room, the same steel-top table in the centre, the same neon blue radiating not just from the flickering light but from everywhere.

Taking a step closer to the prostrate figure lying on the table, she was forced to remember every detail of that night again. The fear from the nightmare was something she had worked hard to conquer.

Muffled sniffling could be heard from next to her and she immediately flung her hand to a holstered gun strapped to the small of her back, finding it gone. But she didn't need it because the sniffling was emitted from a short, petite fourteen year old Mary.

"She's dead isn't she?" young Mary asked meekly, fearful of the answer.

"For a long time," the older woman softly whispered.

The change in the younger girl was astonishing; she leapt forward to shake the dead body violently, screaming and sobbing.

"Why can't you just wake up _now_? You are _not_ going to leave me here! I don't want to stay!" she shrieked.

The body just limply flopped to the side and the eyes of the woman that were once loving and warm were completely bottomless black, glazed with a milky sheen. She stared in horror at the effect of the haunting eyes.

"_He_ did this, didn't he?" the young girl whispered savagely as she whipped her head around to face the older female. Without needing an answer, she ran from the room, into the thick shadows behind her.

"Wait!" she called after the girl, instinctively feeling protective but young Mary had already gone and she was left alone once again.

She solemnly turned back to face the figure lying on the table, cautious of any movements as if the body would suddenly sit up, akin to a zombie just like in the movies. No movement came; it didn't wake up, just stared at her with lifeless, grotesque eyes.

"She was too gentle to live in a world full of humans," a familiar male said from beside her, startling Mary with a voice that could be easily sarcastic and playful one second but dangerously serious the next. Right now, it was sombre and reflective.

"Dan – " she began softly but what stood in place of what was supposed to be Dante, was not Dante.

It looked like Dante but there was something different; the hair for one, and the clothes another, but there was something about the face that seemed to hold more menace, a more sinister air about him. This was the other one, the one that she saw at the balcony with her father, wasn't it?

The beautifully sculpted face was passively gazing down at her mother's body. No furrow at the centre of the brows, no frown on his lips; just a relaxed emotionless expression, which emphasised just how young he really was – not what he made himself out to be at all.

He turned to look down at her, his swirling, liquid cobalt eyes locking onto hers.

"Can you do any better?" she heard his husky voice ring out even though his mouth remained a thin line. He turned away, walking back into the darkness behind her.

But the darkness melted into something lighter, a landscape of a hazy sky; something that seemed more animated like a movie screen was playing behind him. Mary could only stare past the handsome figure, watching the scenery as if she were really there.

It was like a war zone; death had touched every inch of the horizon. Blood flowed and pooled between the impressions left in the soggy mud and the air smelled of it; the rich, coppery taste accumulated at the back of her throat. Looking around, there were body parts lying everywhere, rotting corpses scattered as far as she could see; she couldn't even take a step for the fear of stepping on a body or a limb.

She was used to death, used to seeing the glassy look in the eyes of victims, seeing their blood splattered on the wall and ceilings, seeing their throats torn out. But never had she seen such destruction on a massive level in all her life.

_Where am I? _She wondered. It was so overwhelming, so much death. Was this even real? Wasn't there anyone out there? She scanned the area for any sign of life. Nothing but the breeze wafting the rancid stench of decaying bodies and metallic blood towards the setting sun.

Mary cast her gaze down, staring at the body at her feet. It was a human, covered in thick crimson blood, lying face down in the mud; she couldn't see any obvious wounds, but there was something odd about the figure. Hesitant, she bent down to roll the body over. She couldn't contain the gasp from her lips as soon as she saw what lay at her feet. The white silvery hair stained scarlet, the frosty ice blue eyes and the familiar, beautifully sculpted face that was now smudged with dirt and blood, stared back at her with glassy eyes. Her grip on the body tightened, her eyes widening further as she gazed around herself, noticing for the first time that each of the bodies lying in the mud had platinum silver hair staring to infinity with ice blue eyes.

Her mind was swimming, she tried to string a coherent thought together but all that came out was a distressed: _Huh!_

By then her vision was swimming in circles.

…

He awoke with a start, jolting upright, feeling cold sweat beading down his back as he remembered remnants of his last memories.

The sun beaming down on the grassy knoll as he and his brother raced up the hill, taunting each other; the swirling black clouds surrounded by lighting coiling around as thunder boomed; his mother's body lying on the dusty, cobble stone pavement in a pool of blood. Pushing Dante aside into a random building and his hands clenched, he faced the gangly demons in defiance.

Where was everyone? The scrambling people? The screams? When had it stopped? What happened to Dante? Mother…she was gone, dead. What had happened? One minute swinging a sword, the next, screaming in pain as a blade skewered flesh…

_But…I can't feel anything right now. I don't feel any pain - I must be dead…right? _

He tried to piece together where he could be: a field of small, grassy hills with stone tablets erected, dotting the landscape. A graveyard?

Confusion flared in all corners of his mind as he struggled to piece together the reason for this turn of events. Wasn't he wounded? Wasn't he dying?

Feeling a breeze pick up, he looked down to see that he was completely naked and blemish free; his pale body reflecting the faint shade of a giant blood-red moon as the fading sun drifted down past the horizon. Crimson mingled with prussian blue as the last streaks of light splashed across the twilight sky. Nightfall was approaching fast and it was getting chilly. Not physically, no; even in his half human state, the chilly winds would never bite into his skin, but it was the phantom, ruby-red moon, now glowing more intensely, that caused his heart to freeze as the promise of blazing terror and strife seared into his mind.

Where was he? Where was he going? No answers could be found as he walked forward, quickening his pace towards the horizon at the peak of the largest hill where a weeping tree could be seen; sharp twigs and bits of hard stones dug into the sole of his feet as he trudged further. The last smudges of colour were fading from the sky, only to be replaced by a something sinister, malicious. Dark swirls of clouds began to mist over the scarlet moon, casting a dark gloom, shrouding the stars from view. As he walked a few more paces, gazing up at the night sky, the dark mist covering the moon began to fuse to form a tangible shape in the air. A shape that seemed to represent a haloed skull on top of a giant, winged torso.

…

Vergil could only watch on as his younger self headed up the hill, towards the tree. _Why am I dreaming this? Why am I seeing this?_ He remembered that day clearly as though it was just yesterday but why was he forced to relive this nightmare?

Younger Vergil stopped in his tracks, staring up at the ghastly shape in the sky. Vergil knew what would happen next but that didn't stop a shiver from trailing down his spine as he heard the same silky voice again, reverberating throughout his head; enticing his younger self, seducing his impressionable mind.

…_**Nnnnn Ssssssssss…**_

…

…_**innn sssssss…**_

_What?_

_**Oiiinnnn ssssssss…**_

_Who's there!_

_**Joinnnn usssssss**_

_I…I can't hear you!_

**_Joinn usssss…joinnnnnn ussss_**

…_Join…you?_

Cackling erupted from the darkness, echoing all around.

…

Walking through the debris scattered on the ground, they walked around the black lump of charred gunk; their boots crunching the fallen glass shards.

Montoya let out a whistle and bent down to stare with morbid curiosity at the burnt carcass.

"Someone sure seems _pissed off_ today." he reflected with amusement, noting how much of a mess the place seemed to be – yet again – with rubble, what looked to be demonic remains and destroyed artefacts that would have sold millions, flung in all directions.

"I wouldn't blame her." came the gentle voice beside him.

Standing up, they walked on down the hallway in silence.

* * *

**AN**: Hope you enjoyed and always **review** if you want more chapters! 

Thank you to the reviewers of the previous chapters for their wonderful feedback! Hug hug hug

**Tyrant Hamster** - As always, thanks for the corrections, I've fixed the problems - I'm turning into the laziest bum so keep it up!

**Dispassion** - I'm glad I've made such an impact! haha forget about blushing..when I see a picture of Dante I faint:D

**Bettany** - Thanks for your review again! I hope the symbolisms aren't too much to turn ppl off though.


	9. Chapter 8

AN: I've changed the horrid 'Flashback' titling since my bro keeps whining about how it looks dorky. I'm sorry but it had to be put in! So now, flashbacks are denoted as:

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hope it's not confusing. Onto the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

**:Eight:**

"Hey! Come on, Princess! Wake up!"

Good lord, her head hurt. What was that racket?

"_Goddamn_ get the hell up or I'm leaving you here, woman!"

If she could just reach for a gun right now…

Clenching her fist, she struck out at the offending being waking her up. Mary opened her eyes, staring at the face of a complete jerk who was now lying on his backside with a completely stunned expression.

"What the hell was _that_ for? Dante said, rubbing at his jaw with a look of annoyance; the blow didn't hit him hard but the sudden outburst was enough to catch him off guard.

"For getting too close. Don't _ever_ do that again." She ground out as she got up with a wince. Her head still ached with a dull pain at the back of her head.

"Just for that, I should have _kissed_ you awake then." He muttered, emphasising the kiss with a wide grin on his striking face as he stood up in a fluid motion.

_For a demon, he seems pretty in tune with human emotions…_She took a moment to study him as he cracked his neck and dusted his jacket off. She had never met a demon who acted so…humane. His mannerisms and the jokes that he constantly cracked, while they were annoying, they were very much human traits. There were so many things about this Dante that defied many of the prejudices she had held against his kind. His kind…he _was_ a demon, wasn't he? The way he moved, the way he fought; it was obviously inhuman. She wanted to ask outright all the questions that were nagging at her mind but she wasn't in any position to ask; why would she? If he was a demon - and he definitely seemed to be - she'd have to kill him anyway, right? It was her job to exterminate them all and she was damned if she would let one slip by.

But then there was her dream or vision or whatever that she'd just experienced. What did that mean? Why was _he_ in it at all?

"Hey! Wakey wakey," he said, waving a hand in her face, "I really don't want to have to drag you around this crazy tower." She blinked a couple times as he started to walk off ahead, the red leather duster fluttering in a breeze that suddenly swept through the corridor.

He really did seem to be a mystery. _Who was he?_

…

"If you were given the chance to meet…no, no…_date_ the President or that guy that rules the fugly monsters around here, which one would you pick?"

Mindless chatter was one of Montoya's special talents, bar the annoying antics he would pull or the actual fact that he really was quite proficient in their chosen field of expertise.

"Fugly? I know you're vocabulary was at least up to sixth grade, when did you go back to fourth grade?" she rolled her eyes at the face he pulled. They walked further on through the corridor in silence for a full 5 minutes.

"I don't get it. Why would _he_ want to do this? It's not like they'll give you health insurance or compensation for say, _deforming your body,_ just to get a kick outta the neat tricks you can do in return." Again, his chit-chatty self could not stop.

"No one gets it. That's why no one _does_ that kind of ritual." Walking up the steps, they kept their weapons trained to each pathway as they came to a fork in the passageway.

Gripping the assault rifle in her hands, Selest decidedly took the left passageway, leaving Montoya to lag behind and cover the rear. It was dark along this path, but it didn't smell as bad and she was glad that there was even a choice between the two. Spending hours with Montoya who tended to sweat a lot gave her olfactories a work out.

Two seconds later, she was half-heartedly regretting her decision as she switched the flashlight on her rifle on, standing still, she saw that protruding from either side of the passageway were thin, jagged and twisted spikes - ready to impale a large man should he decide to stumble sideways.

"Crap!" Montoya stumbled into her back but let out a moan and a string of curses once he noticed the wiry barbs extending out of either side of the walls. "Why the hell did you have to pick this one!"

They treaded the rocky path carefully up for half an hour as the further they ascended the incline, the more narrow the pathway became. Curses and constant cussing littered the walk up as the barbs snared Montoya's clothes and scratched his skin.

"Ya know, I think this place is more suited to you. It's smaller and has more thorny thorns to trap any man!"

Turning around, she stared at her idiotic brother in the eye; the ultimate lame remark to ever come out of his mouth was insulting to say the least. Swiftly giving him a kick at the shin, earning a yelp and she turned to stroll faster.

Groans and rumbles were reverberating down from the entrance of the passage as they drew closer to the light. Looking back at her brother, Selest made a mental check of her supplies available for the fight ahead; clicking and snapping of cartridges told her Montoya was doing the same.

Striding further up, she could see a mass of demons lurking at the entrance, easily thirty if she counted the ones that were climbing along the walls. Outstretching a hand behind her shoulder, Montoya dropped a slim grenade into her palm. Pulling the pin, she tossed the grenade and clutched her rifle as the explosion within the chamber erupted.

…

Snapping his eyes open, Vergil's body felt as though it ran a race around the world in 10 minutes. Each muscle was aching, sharp pain stabbing through his abdomen as he began to get to his knees. The stinging pain in his hand was slowly ebbing away yet the dull throb in his head remained. Closing his eyes again, he remained stationary; letting the energy he'd harnessed over the long years, roll over his body in waves.

Thinking back to what had happened, why was he reliving the past? Was there something significant? True, that moment in the burial ground was the turning point; it was his awakening. Mulling the thought over, there wasn't any solid connections between that and his purpose – or was there?

He'd also seen that girl again. The one with the ridiculous arsenal littered over her body. Why he saw that girl standing in a field of conquered demons was beyond him, but what he'd witnessed within the vision definitely told him that she was somehow significant to his cause.

The screeches and screams as fire burned the huts…the young woman who clutched the shrieking child to her breast as her mouth opened to say unspoken words…her beautiful multicoloured pearl eyes boring into his soul…

He mentally shook the thought from his head, shaking the coil of unease that was settling in. He didn't need more ambiguous dreams of some fairy women in his head but the resemblance to that girl was uncanny. Perhaps this was the one he'd been looking for? There was the other one that came with a male companion. Pretty, frail, little thing with beautiful, long, black hair. He'd have to track her down as well.

Problem solved. It was either of the two ladies; no other female was drawn to the raw energy that he released before. He'd test them and he'd find the true vessel, starting with Arkham's little girl. All he needed was the fool himself, to promptly open the entrance to the last seal.

Slowly opening his blazing cobalt eyes, he stood up in a fluid motion. No lancing pains shot through his body and upon looking at his hand, the once raw and angry flesh, was now smoothed over with pale healthy skin. A small curve at the corner of his lips began to spread and he walked out of the enchanted chamber.

…

"Dante…?" _God, this is so hard._ How was she supposed to ask him something like this? She'd never been that good in terms of people skills but this was awkward!

Turning around, Dante looked at her with an eyebrow raised, waiting for her to continue.

"Um…" She stared him in the eye like a rabbit caught in flashing headlights, while he tapped his foot. What was she suppose to say now? _Do you have a brother? Why were you in my dreams? Were you descended from a family that were albinos? Do you know anyone who wears a blue jacket? What the hell are you!_

"I had a dream about you." she blurted. _Oh god!_ Like that wasn't corny enough, her face turned ten shades of a tomato red.

"Oh…Is that all?" Dante made to turn back around.

"Wait! That's not what I meant-" she began.

"Look, it's okay, Princess" he interrupted with a grin on his sculpted face, "I understand that I'm a desirable guy, it's not uncommon to find the ladies wanting-"

"No, you jerk!" she grabbed his arm by the jacket and turned him to face her.

"When I was knocked out, I dreamt of someone who looked like you. Twice. Exactly like you but there was something different. In the first, you sounded…strange, foreboding."

The memory of that dream was disconcerting; just thinking back to her past was disturbing. Shaking her head, she continued on, "The second one was this field of soldiers or something, just dead bodies, everywhere and…they all had the same face."

"Let me guess: my face?" he said, earning a nod.

Looking into his eyes, Mary searched for a reaction. A frown was starting to spread as he took in the new information. She knew it sounded stupid, she thought it sounded stupid but there had to be some sort of significance to it.

Sighing, Dante looked to the side with a faraway expression. Seconds rolled by but they remained motionless, each thinking of a reason to discount these vague dreams that Mary happened to bring up.

"It was Vergil." Dante said. Staring at her mystifying eyes, he continued, "My brother. It was probably him, but I don't know why you'd want to dream about him. He's not someone you'd wanna get crazy over."

And with that, he turned around to exit the cavern they were walking through.

"Is he the reason you're here?" she asked with his back facing her, "I know he _is_ here. What-"

She never got to finish the question as a loud vibration shook the ground beneath them.

Mary gripped her handgun firmly as she stared around the cavern. Loud cracks resounded around the cavern as a large fissure on the ground snaked its way between the demon hunters and they promptly collapsed to the level below with both on a slab of stone each.

Landing with a crouch on the broken slab, Mary balanced herself on the now crumpled stone slab. Looking over to where Dante was, she saw that he was brushing his sleeves, no injury whatsoever. She herself was not so lucky, the sudden halt when she landed on the next floor below rattled her body and her shins were smarting from the strain of the force. Collective moans alerted her to the presence of demons and she quickly stood up, whipping out her weapons. The sound of gunfire made her pause for a second as Dante held his broad sword. Snapping her gaze around, she squinted through the dust that was kicked up from the collapsed ceiling, noticing another figure, holding an assault rifle while a smaller feminine figure was also shooting into the thick of monsters.

A guttural groan to her right and she automatically swung her right hand sideways, firing off a stream of bullets as more descended towards the four figures, each of them thirsting for flesh and destruction.

…

Twisting her body, she bent forward at the waist to avoid a sweeping blow from an oncoming Hell Pride. As she shot the demon to her left, using the twisting momentum to sweep her own leg out at the attacking demon. Stumbling back, the demon was cleaved in two by the swipe of Dante's impressive sword. With a burst of black dust, the demon was eliminated, leaving the soot to settle over her face.

A devil to her left leapt high into the air screeching, a pike aimed straight towards her. Watching the pike move slowly for her throat, she promptly holstered her handgun and bent backwards to let the pike slide forward as she grabbed hold of the handle. Heaving with her weight behind the pull, she swung the pike down with the demon still clutching the handle, landing with a thud. Taking advantage of the stunned demon, she shot the devil in the face.

Turning around, she surveyed the area, acknowledging for the first time, the two new figures.

The taller man seemed to be compactly built, brown haired with a lazy smile grinning as he twisted the arm of a flailing devil and swung it up in the air before shooting it, sending a shower of black dust. The smaller petite companion was currently taking on three devils simultaneously with a pair of lethal daggers the length of her arm. Slicing left and right, she twirled around with both daggers, carving the devils surrounding her and flipping backwards, away from the explosion of black sand; eliminating the last of the creatures.

Straightening up, they relaxed their postures slightly, eyes darting back and forth for any sign of activity. A flutter of movement from the mystery two who swiftly aimed their grapples to the ceiling and were jerked off their feet, zooming into the air; heading through to the next floor through the collapsed ceiling.

_Bounty hunters. They had to be if they came so prepared._ But a second later, a burst of gunshots rang out from above; muffled feral growls were let out between the gunfire and then silence. Eerily it was too still and she looked to Dante who just stared back at her, also raising an eyebrow.

A low rumble resounded throughout the chamber, shaking the grounds and reverberating throughout the walls. The rumble was enough to shake the ground at her feet and bounce the small pebbles that littered the floor but she maintained her balance. A creak from the ceiling, followed by a sprinkle of dust over her head caused Mary to look up but a moment too late. As the vulnerable rock ceiling gave way again; she realised belatedly that more slabs of falling rock was aimed straight at her head.

She would have been flattened to a wet, squishy pancake at that moment, if a blur of red and white hadn't intercepted and whisked her out of harms way. Not necessarily out of harms way, more like: away from the falling ten tonne rock slabs. Dante had grabbed her by the waist and rolled out of the way of the oncoming rock slabs.

She would have normally blushed at the close contact, the feel of his warm hands around her waist was comforting but for Kalina Ann and the contents of her bag digging into her back. That and the slimy demon blood that splattered his leather duster did not quite make for a comfortable experience. Any sappy feelings that he might have felt as well was quickly banished as she saw the look that was painted on his dusty face. Following his gaze, a giant creature, reaching roughly 15 feet was currently snarling like a bulldog, saliva dripping from fangs that were the length of her arms while four red gleaming eyes trailed their movements.

In a motion too quick for her stunned brain to register, Dante stood up with his guns in hand, aiming them at the creature and analysing its tactics. Swinging her own weapon, Kalina Ann, around her body, she began to take aim, tensing her body to absorb the recoil of the ballistic when Dante held out a hand to stop her.

"You'll only make it more aggravated. Leave this kitty to me!" he gave her a wink as he smirked and unhooked his sword from his back, before leaping up high to the head of the creature, which resembled a cross between a canine and feline. She could, admittedly, see why he'd made that judgement; its back was covered in scales, a thick hide that would be impenetrable with normal bullets.

With a humph, she began to move back away from striking distance, it had to have some sort of weakness apart from its head, which Dante was now covering with slashes in abundance as he tried to dodge the swipe of sharp claws that were probably 3 feet long, all the while remaining suspended in mid-air.

She had to admire the style which he fought with, using the sword with elegant sweeping strokes; he used the snout of the creature as a stepping platform to kick up into the air again, earning a snapping lunge from its jaws. Scanning the body of the creature, she decided to go for the belly of the monster, usually a weak spot for most creatures and trained the bazooka to its target, waiting for the opportunity to reveal itself. Keeping a watchful eye, she was careful to maintain a distance from the lashing tail where spiked barbs protruded from the tip as it pounced and clawed at the demon hunter. The creature was definitely agile.

_What if she shot the thing in the a-_

"Look out!" a shout from above warned her but was too late. The barbed tail headed straight for her, hitting her front on and sending her flying back towards an exit path as soon as she pressed the trigger of Kalina Ann. The explosion that followed sent a crash of rocks and stone chunks falling yet again.

Tumbling down the path, she curled to a ball to minimise the effects. Knowing her body was going to punish her for the battering she'd endured, she uncurled as soon as the world stopped spinning, and the rocks stopped falling. Mary stared back up at the entrance only to find that she was closed out from the chamber: the entry was blocked!

She could still hear the loud roars coming from the giant creature, and the slide of metallic steel on hard, polished scales. Carefully treading up the fallen rocks, she scrambled slightly to find an opening, a loose slab of stone that could be tossed away. Pushing the top stones, nothing gave way. She was completely shut out.

Looking towards the dark tunnel, she pulled out a flashlight.

"Sorry Dante. You're on your own for now." she muttered into the dim; clanging and rumbling of the commotion on the other side of the barrier shook the sand and dust from the pile of rocks but still, none of them gave way. She turned and made her way down the darkened tunnel, hoping she'd find a way back out and on track to the next floor up.

…

Trudging up more steps, her fatigue was quietly seeping into her movements, her multicoloured eyes were drooping slightly and her feet felt as though weights were tying her down. Her previous disturbing slumber didn't really improve her fatigue. Not knowing where the hell she was forced her stamina and concentration to remain a constant level but the same arched hallways lined with endless numbers of rickety lanterns were beginning to get monotonous – or was she walking around in circles?

_Dammit! I've seen that stupid crack before!_ Glaring at the fracture in the wall, she gathered her frayed sense of direction and tried to piece together the best course of action.

From the dark tunnel, she'd walked on what had appeared to be an incline upwards through to another cavern, which she hoped was at least on the floor that she was previously on but then the cavern led to another chamber that had multiple narrow passages. From then on, she'd picked a path and stayed on it, only to find herself winding up in circles.

Shrugging her shoulders, she took a breath and took the precious moment to calm her nerves. The only way was to go up and if she had turned right rather than left at the intersection a ways back, she was bound to have found some alternate route.

…

Another hour of walking through empty corridors and she was getting tired of the scenery. The least the builders could have done was place a few paintings on the walls, even if they were paintings of death and destruction like in all the other framed paintings she'd seen before.

Sniffing the air, she stopped in her tracks. Fresh air was coming in and that meant only one thing: there was an opening to the outside – she had reached halfway into the tower it seemed as the wall-sized windows let in streams of moonlight into the dark corridor. Renewed hope that she would see the outside again was blooming as she picked up her pace and strolled further up, turning the corner, but she stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw she was face-to-face with the mirror image of Dante.

She almost made to call out his name but the clothes, the hair and the strong set on his face, it was all wrong. It was an obvious indication that this was not the easy going, annoying devil she was with before. This was the other one; his brother, apparently. The one who spoke in her dream. Pulling her handgun quickly, she aimed straight for him, wary of his moves; if he was anything like his brother, he would be able to overpower her quickly.

"Mary. How convenient of you to show up. I was beginning to think that you would not be a gracious guest and greet your host." his slick voice slithered in the air and snaked down her spine. She knew that voice, it was the same one she'd heard in her dream, but this time it was laced with mockery.

_How did he…? _

"I have my ways." he said as if reading her mind. Arkham. That's how.

"What are you planning?" she carefully asked. Her mind had been going over the reasons why Dante would want to come here; why he would follow his brother here. She knew this brother was helping Arkham attain some sort of demonic powers but no one helps another unless they got something in return.

He regarded her for a moment. Eyes narrowed as he seemed to take an interest in staring at her face. She wanted to stab his eyes out, anything to make him stop. His piercing gaze seemed to tear away all the boundaries that separated her from him, but she was saved from doing anything when he turned his back on her and looked up at the sky.

"The view from heaven is even more exquisite, but humans have no idea about that, do they? They sit here, in this pit of hell, rolling around in their emotions without a purpose in life. Haven't you ever wondered, Mary? Why did God put you on this Earth?"

She didn't answer him. The more he talked, the more she thought he definitely belonged to a white padded cell. Dante seemed to be more companionable right about now.

"No," he turned his head slightly, and in a blur of movement, he was standing right behind her. Mary didn't even get a chance to scream, could only gasp softly at the swiftness with which he moved. She felt his body heat seep under her skin, even though Kalina Ann was pressed between them, as an arm snaked around her waist. His warm hand clamped around the soft pressure point behind her ears and along her neck. Hard. But still, she couldn't scream given that her body was starting to slacken, her muscles becoming too relaxed.

"I didn't expect you to know the answer." he said softly as her mind went blank and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

…

"Where in the world did she wheedle off to?" Dante muttered. Brushing the gunk off his jacket, he glanced at the bloody mess of a demonic kitty. Head hanging off its shoulders by a thin sheet of tough leathery skin, it put up a good fight.

Now he needed to find that lady again before she killed herself. That woman was stiffer than a tree at times; stubborn women that could bite your head off tended to rub him the wrong way. But like it or not, she wouldn't last very long in this place by herself, plus the knowledge that his brother was here to cause trouble didn't help her survival rate any higher.

Walking off to the side where the rocks and stones barred the exit to the chamber, he kicked at the fallen rocks, sending a burst of dust and small stones flying as the rest of the debris toppled down and made way for the demon hunter. Taking a long look at the dark tunnel, he inhaled the stale air, catching traces of her distinct human scent. He was quite sure that she'd been down here, but if anything, he'd follow his nose in case he was lost.

Starting off at a steady trot, he manoeuvred his way through the maze of tunnels, following the scent of the lady through to a large corridor that were lavishly decorated with antiques, much like the other hallways he'd seen prior. A tinge of alarm was laced with her scent now, and something else. Something else that was very much familiar and he turned the corner with a quickened pace to see that the hallway led to a courtyard, which was an odd feature in a building. Continuing his pace, the scent was stronger now and his suspicions were confirmed.

Vergil had found her. But where was he?

He scanned the area until his gaze focused upon the lady's figure on the ground. Taking two steps, he stopped in his tracks, whirling around to aim Ivory at his own mirror image.

There he was. A year on and the dark pulsing aura that enveloped the darker half of their father's soul was palpable in the moonlit night.

The next few seconds, Dante spent trying to regain his senses but his mind was bombarded with images that kept replaying in his mind: the day that his mother died and he was helpless to stop it.

That was what it all came down to. He was weak and he wasn't strong like Vergil who had strode out to face the unknown, to protect him, his only living relation to the world. Dante had spent years trying to forget the memories, trying to forget that he was the only one left in the world, the only one with unique abilities. But such a traumatic memory couldn't stay buried forever and it was inevitable that the burning emotions would resurface as they did one year ago.

One year ago, he had discovered that he wasn't the only unique being, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

'_Reopening the passage our old man sealed?'_

'_It's the only way.'_

Sigh. _'…Mother was killed by demons.'_

'_I know.'_

The steady, final tone told Dante that he wouldn't be able to shake his twin's resolve. He knew more than anyone that Vergil was, if anything, determined to get what he wanted and commanded the respect from others. He was the responsible one, always standing back to analyse the situation, always logical - how could he be so illogical about everything now?

Questions were flying all over his head; where did he go? Why didn't he find him? What had he been doing all this time? But he knew that if Vergil had been aloof back then, he sure as hell would be cold and remote now judging by that spiteful expression; his bitter blue eyes narrowed, set in a grim visage of his own reflection. Every feature and line was so familiar, each contour and curve, they were all the same; yet this was a new person, twisted in the depths of hell and brought back in the form of his brother.

They regarded each other for a few seconds, minutes even; it didn't really matter because for them, time had no real meaning in their lives. What mattered was what lay before them: their shadow, silently memorising each facet of their twin.

"Because I'm the responsible elder, I'll give you the chance to help me, help me retrieve what's rightfully ours, Dante. Only the blood running in our veins can regain what was lost."

"Help you…" he echoed. Dante and Vergil, off on another adventure into the woods to fight the deadly creatures of the forest. He remembered those outings, running through the thick bushes and leaping over jutting roots as they pretended to hunt an unseen prey.

He wanted to, just like old times. "Let me ask you something, what are you gonna do with it?"

His only response was a sinister smirk. He already knew the answer before he asked it but he needed to confirm it, wanted to know that it wasn't true.

"So this is it? Two loving brothers split between good and evil. Rather poetic."

"It's rather pathetic, actually. Why do you avidly surround yourself in their ignorance?" Letting those words sink in, he continued on.

"You're always absurdly dense, Dante. This is what we are. Superior in every way and yet you wish to disguise the gifts inherited by Sparda."

"You're a fool not to believe in the power bestowed upon us. It's a shame, Dante. Such a shame." His dextrous fingers swivelled his sword into its sheath and he turned to walk away, his light footfalls barely making a splatter on the blood-soaked marble floor.

And then began their stand-off.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I had waited for this day with much excitement, little brother, since our last outing had ended on a sour note." Maintaining his hold on his favoured sword dangling from his hip, Vergil found his carefree brother frowning. The same rowdy, boisterous twin that pranced around, flaunting his heritage like some cheap parlour trick to the unsuspecting masses of human filth.

"Wasn't my fault you were being delusional."

"Perhaps it was you that was delusional. I was willing to kiss and make up after our little tussle."

"You can kiss my ass, bro. There's no way I'm going to give in to your games. I'm not going to play around anymore; it's just you and me." With a quick draw, Dante's handguns were flashed out and aimed for his twin's forehead.

"Careful now, Dante. For the sake of your latest pet." Emphasising the last sentence, Vergil made sure that Dante understood the stakes in the new contest. The woman was lying on her side, her short hair splayed over her face, obscuring her ethereal features.

"I said it before if you were paying attention; it's between you and me. Whatever you're planning has nothing to do with her so leave her alone."

"On the contrary, dear little brother. Even you should have realised it by now, she's very involved in our tangled affairs and I think it would be in your best interests if you would cease this heroic tirade and turn away."

"Didn't know you cared, Vergil. What's she to you anyway?" There was something about Vergil's tone that didn't settle right. _…involved in _our _tangled affairs..?_ What kind of affairs was he thinking of?

"Doesn't matter. Whatever you've got planned has gotta be bad so why don't we cut the chit-chat and get going?" getting impatient with his brothers' riddles, he trained Ebony and Ivory straight for Vergil.

He was watching Vergil's every move, reading his posture and twitch of his right fingers as his eyes narrowed to contemplate the possible techniques to use. It was just like old times, analysing the opponents movements, waiting to see what the other would do in each different situation. But playtime was over and now it was for real. It was time to resolve his brother's homicidal tendencies.

…

Swiping down with his sword, Dante feinted to the right only to pounce to the left side with a wide swing and met with a clang, another block of Vergil's katana. He needed to move the fight away from the lady on the ground and he couldn't well do that if his brother was controlling the fight.

Circling each other, they ghosted each step, stalking the other and waiting for an opening. Swiftly lunging, Vergil cut through to aim for his brother's chest, who dodged the move a fraction too slow and received a shallow cut along his collarbone. A trickle of blood trailed down from healed wound, already replaced by clear skin. Ignoring the sting, Dante knocked the sword upwards and began to renew his efforts, picking up the pace in hopes to catch his brother off guard, until they ended up with a dead-lock.

A soft groan behind him alerted him to the princess' awakening. If she wanted to live, she'd have to remain quiet and play dead for a moment, but Vergil's eye had shifted behind him and he knew that Vergil had noticed. Pushing off from Vergil's sword, he flipped backwards to land next to the lady and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"How sweet, Dante. Are you saving her from me? Or yourself?" Vergil scoffed. "Put her down. I won't be killing her just yet; I think our match has more priority."

"I know how much you love me, brother but what do you want with her?" Dante queried.

"If you had done more reading than womanising, you might actually know." Without warning, he charged at Dante with his sword ready.

Hand temporarily occupied, Dante used his other hand to pull Ebony out of its holster and fired off a stream of bullets towards the looming figure. Backing away a distance, he slowly lowered the limp figure in his arm to the ground carefully, making sure she would be out of the way before he pulled his sword back out and ran towards Vergil.

Clashing with ferocity, Dante stabbed forward, sweeping Rebellion around in an arc only to be swept away by a block from Vergil. Twisting around, they broke off and Dante decided to use something a bit more forceful. With a grunt, he slammed the sword down, sending off sparks and cracks fanned out as it remained embedded in the ground. Growling, he began to draw on his own energy, concentrating the raw power into his soul, a glowing red aura radiated from his body. The nails on his fingertips began to thicken, lengthen and taper into sharp points while his skin became more translucent, black veins writhing underneath. Raising his head, Dante grinned, revealing razor-sharp fangs while his glowing crimson eyes stared at his brother with a burning hunger.

…

He was tiring from the constant strain on his body; his movements slowing by the second as Vergil kept him in his paces. The swift 'swipe and block' of his twins' tactics were frustrating him and each blow of his own was becoming aggressively impulsive than calculated and strategic.

Lowering his head, his lungs were sucking in gasps of air, panting from the exertion, while the severed tendons sewed back together; the bones in his wrist slowly knitting themselves whole again. Raising his gaze from the ground, he glared at the smirking visage of his twin between silvery strands; taking in a deep breath to calm the scattered sensation of emotions threatening to burst forth.

Closing his eyes, he could still see the face that he knew as well as he did his own, set in a twisted grin of victory. It went beyond brotherly fighting; drawing parallel to a sadistic need to draw rich, thick blood from broken flesh. There were no such things as brothers or sisters in the eyes of demonic lore – a rare acceptance that they assumed the moment they walked away from each other.

He felt his body shifting, retracting from the relieved freedom that he released; feeling the demonic soul shrivel back into its cage. Without the extra burst of strength, Dante needed to rely on his skills rather than brute force; that alone wasn't going to stop his twin.

Drawing on his last reserve of strength, he expended the breath he had been holding, snapping his eyes open and swiftly holstered the firearm. Watching his brother pick up his sword, Dante walked over to his own long sword - the blade glinting in the full moon. Grasping the hilt, he swung the blade around with a flick of the wrist and charged towards his brother.

…

A strike across his abdomen, followed by a forward thrust into the heart and Dante fell to his knees. It was too much, the blood was freely flowing from each cut as he struggled to regain his posture and Vergil knew it too. Could smell the defeat hanging in the air as the stench of blood overwhelmed his senses and drove his demonic soul wild with the need to tear into yielding flesh. A feral smile touched his lips as he yanked his sword out, letting the blood burst forth, spattering onto his face and closed. Ignoring the warm droplets, he closed the distance between them.

"The weak are drawn to the strong. Didn't you know that?" he sneered to an unconscious Dante. Reaching out, Vergil hauled his twin's prone form upright, the head lolling back to expose unblemished skin. His body was tingling with a prickly sensation at the sight of tender pale flesh; the devil within was bursting forth.

After an interval of biding its time, waiting to be unleashed, patiently lurking at the back of his mind…_No._ Now was not the time to indulge in its violence, the devil within would have to wait. He had other pressing issues at hand.

Ripping the exposed gleaming amulet from Dante's neck with one hand still clutching the lapel of his brother's jacket, he dropped the body and headed to the young woman laying some way behind his inept brother.

…

Standing in the shadows at a distance away, Arkham watched the spectacle, noting a third shadow scrutinising the events unfolding under a swathe of black robes. Narrowing his eyes, Arkham turned away, jumping down to another platform and strolled back into the tower.

Ready or not, it was time to awaken Heaven.

* * *

AN: Well, this will be the last chapter in a while…my very last exams are coming up so I'll be hibernating for a long time…:(…plus I'll be moving to my new house:). Thought I might post something decently long to make up for the upcoming break, but I chopped a fair bit of action scenes…mainly coz I'm hopeless at writing those parts :D

Hope you enjoyed anyway and as always, gimme a comment no matter what!

Bettany – I suppose its just hard to please everyone – some people just want the raunchy goodness while others want a violent, smart mouthed Dante who always gets the girl. Me? I'm trying to just delve more into the characters while trying to cobble up a decent storyline that's different…not sure if that's possible with the multitude of great fics posted here daily. Anyway, to stop taking up more room – thanks for the feedback and support :)


	10. Chapter 9

**AN: **Enjoy and reviews are much appreciated so drop a line.**  
**

* * *

**:Nine:**

…_take her...the…il preparations are completed_

…_and of…of…nte?_

…_leave that to me…me_

…

Instead of remaining shrouded and disguised, the new mural was situated in a most apparent location.

The circular lobby was lavishly decorated with chandeliers, busts of great figures and paintings of beautiful, ghostly forms. No sign of demonic activity was present on the floor. Everything was still, save for the purposeful strides Vergil took as he walked through the arched stone bridge and into the lobby, carrying the small figure of an unconscious woman; one arm supporting the shoulders and the other supporting the legs. He moved swiftly, passing the life-sized statues at the side, noticing how their gaze seemed to shadow his movement but he paid them no mind, focusing on his destination. Walking to the far right side of the circular lobby, he set the woman down roughly; the sweet scent she exuded crept into his nasal cavities, provoking perilous thoughts as the demon within reared its head and bared its fangs with a savage grin. Watching her expression as she slumbered on, her eyebrows furrowed and twitched slightly on her otherwise serene, innocent face. His eyes trailed over her heart-shaped face, her dainty nose marred by a line running along bridge, the full lips that seemed lusciously soft…

_Vermin. She's _vermin

He closed his eyes to compose himself. He needed to get this over with quickly. Then he could get rid of her.

Taking out his brother's gleaming amulet set in silver, he turned his gaze to the mural he now stood in front of. Instead of a battle, it depicted a prominent figure in the centre amongst a variety of humanoid figures and creatures.

It was the Judgement Day for those who walked the earth, the oppression of the malicious entities that had enveloped the world.

Staring at the details of the painting, it was something far more different than what he had thought the mural would have depicted. In contrast to the previous portrayal and to the contradiction to the multiple sources he'd studied, the prominent figure was not of Sparda - nor was it a human.

It was like an angel; the ones from fairytale books, imaginary things, but so much more magnificent.

A female standing tall, proudly over the top of various inhuman creatures. Dressed in a flowing white sleeveless gown with metallic and brown leather armour strapped to her shoulders and chest, her great majestic wings spanned from the centre of her back with luscious swirling masses of long, midnight black hair flowing freely behind her in an unseen draught of wind, tamed by a crown of crystalline jewels set in gold entwined into the locks. Her heavily lashed eyes were glowering down upon her subjects in a queenly gaze as she pointed her golden sceptre down to the creatures littering her feet.

She was the Priestess. The female who sacrificed her blood for the continuance of humanity. The human who gave her pure blood to the world and banished the sins to an alternate realm. She was far more ethereal than the accounts had recorded. The one who had divided the inhabitants of the Earth to give new life. A Light and Dark. With Sparda at her side, the world was split, providing the humans with renewed hope of continued survival.

Trailing his eyes further down, at the centre of the Priestess' chest armour, was a shallow impression much like the previous. Prepared for the effects, he held the heated amulet between his fingers and slotted the jewel into the impression. Like the last time, a ripple undulated from the amulet as though the mural was water. Releasing the amulet, he pulled his hand back, watching the surface of the painting cling to his fingers as he pulled away and snap back to reform a smooth, undisturbed surface, leaving the amulet suspended in top.

Turning around, he bent down to effortlessly lift the unconscious woman up again, stepping up to the painting with the hand supporting her legs outstretched to grasp the glowing amulet from its suspension and glided through the liquefied wall.

It was like the other hidden chamber; confined and claustrophobic. There was only just enough room for Vergil to set Mary down on the ground while he pocketed Dante's amulet. Unlike the first chamber, this stone room was generously decorated with illuminated gems embedded into the walls, a pulsating glow from thin, spidery, lines that branched out like vines across the walls, illuminated the chamber with a blue hue. In the centre of the opposite wall stood the same stone pedestal, carved into the wall with a recess filled with the same quicksilver liquid. No cogs or wheels were turning this time; it was just a pedestal, filled with liquid that swirled churned in its basin like misty clouds.

How was he going to get her blood in there now? Turning to gaze at her limp form, Vergil walked forward, leaning down on a knee and pulled his sword from its sheath. Taking a wrist, he carefully made a small methodical incision; enough to give blood and prevent extensive blood loss; a feat in itself with a long blade. A twitch of her eyebrows and a quirk of her lips made her frown slightly, as though she could feel the pain, but he didn't dwell on her possible awakening; he had removed her blasphemous weapons beforehand should she wake up anytime. He held her up by the waist like a doll, her head flopping back onto his shoulder while he took the scored wrist, holding it over the swirling liquid and squeezed hard. Drops of scarlet fell in a steady, slow drip towards the watery surface and sizzling upon contact. Each drop intensified the now violently churning liquid, sputtering and hissing as the crimson droplets were engulfed.

The warm, soft mass in his arms shifted, awakening, but he kept her arm outstretched, ignoring her slight stirrings, continually dripping red liquid as the bubbling fluid boiled below.

Survival, endurance, existence. Everything hung in the balance now.

…

With a turn of the head, Mary opened her eyes, blinking the sleep away only to focus on her arm outstretched, held by another hand, clutching her wrist she was – was she bleeding?

Fully aware of the pain that itched along her wrist, she yanked her arm back, only to find that the steel grip was not going to yield. Pushing backwards didn't help either as she was currently suspended above the ground, the tips of her toes only just grazing the stone floor. Panic coursed through her body like a trapped animal and she frantically grunted and wriggled, jerking her arms and legs. Judging from the blue sleeve that was holding her, she had a pretty good idea on who was holding her captive.

"Let me go! Let me go, you bastard! Let – me – go!" she kicked back at the legs behind her. Aiming a swift kick in the precise position, which was harder to do due to her height, she pushed with all her strength. Although her aim was a fraction too high, she connected with the pelvis, hitting what she thought to be tender flesh and earning a strained grunt. The hand that held her wrist loosened and she immediately grabbed onto the side of the recess to hold her balance, her fingers brushing the surface of the churning, boiling liquid. With a gasp, she snatched her coated hand away, grasping at the fingers around her waist in an attempt to pry them off.

Touching that creep was probably her second mistake.

_First was entering this godforsaken tower._ She thought to herself as she felt the strong arm around her waist loosen a fraction and they both tumbled to the hard ground, heads connecting harshly to the cold stone.

…

It was dark. Where he was at that moment, he didn't know, but Arkham's girl wasn't around anymore. And the pain was gone; both the burning sensation on his hand and from when that wench lashed out at him. He decided he didn't like her at all, not that there was a doubt but her senseless actions were going to get her killed sooner than she thought. _Stupid, foolish girl._ When he got out of this dream world again, he'd definitely be the one that bit back.

Turning around, he saw nothing but bottomless black. Where the hell was he? Taking a few steps forward, a light began to glimmer in the distance; feebly shining to a sea of empty space like a lighthouse beacon, intensifying each second until his retinas burned from the glare. Shielding his sensitive eyes, he was wary of what lay ahead. His left hand instinctively went to his side but felt nothing except air. Looking down only confirmed that he was unequipped and he cursed. Feeling vulnerable without any weapons, he'd have to go without, although he knew his combat skills were still exceptional.

Stepping towards the light source, he clenched then unclenched his fists. It was a habit that was becoming a nuisance; ever since he first unravelled the seal to the gateway, he'd been on edge, wary and cautious of the planning, the timing. He needed complete control and this was definitely one variable he hadn't taken into account. Which brought him back to the question: where in the world was he?

He was still walking forwards, walking towards nothing it seemed. The more he progressed, the further the light seemed to be. Until he saw it. At first it seemed like the silhouette of an angel, great wings spread out majestically, fluttering in the wind, just like the image of the Priestess. The ones that were golden-haired and fair; supreme creatures that floated down from Heaven to guide the poor innocent people.

_Too bad there's no such thing._

Steeling himself, he clenched his fists tightly, the slight creak of leather echoing in the still, silent void. Squinting through the harsh rays of light, his frown deepened and his face hardened. He continued to stride forward.

…

_Where am I?_

It was somewhere he wasn't familiar with, somewhere dark and cold. Where only the swollen, blood-red moon shone light on his surroundings and the sky itself was pitch black sprinkled with glittering stars. Huh…stars. Now that was a rare sight; he hadn't seen stars in a long time, what with all the pollution and smog that constantly covered the night sky.

It was actually quite relaxing; soothing to see the vastness of the speckled sky. Cranking his neck further back, he frowned when he caught sight of three burning, ruby red points that insidiously festered high above, crackling with an ominous energy.

Glancing back around him, Dante started forward, not really sure where to go. Treading on the cushiony grass, he walked down the hill, towards the fringes of the city below but something was off. Gazing back towards the hill he had stood on before, he caught sight of a slender figure. Narrowing his eyes, he made out the short dark hair, the long sleeve shirt and the red boots. It was the lady.

Swiftly walking back up, he made his way to her, stopping a foot away as she gazed at him.

"It's so beautiful, the sky. I've never seen it so clear before." she stared up with her swirling mismatched eyes.

"Yeah it is...but where are we?" he glanced up and back to her again.

"Hey, snap out of it!" he clicked his fingers in front of her, startling her from her daze.

"I…don't know…but this place, it seems so peaceful, so quiet. Like it used to be before…." she gave a small shudder and Dante realised just how young she really looked; delicate like a blossoming flower and yet, when she got riled up, she turned into a complete fireball, ready to combust with the slightest provocation.

"Hey." he said gently as he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her small frame. An explosion of feelings flooded his mind instantly as he did so. Hurt…hatred…humiliation…loneliness. He felt it all so vividly, deep gashes that formed scars along her soul, etching deeper as the time flew forward, permanently establishing a wall around her heart. What happened to create this? How did it get so extreme? Flashes of the girl in his arms at a young age flew by him; her as a twelve year old with her mother; a sixteen year old on the streets, stalking the nights with a fiery gaze; a nineteen year old taking on cloaked figures, nimbly weaving in and out and slicing left, right with a slim sword. Just as the flashes came, they were gone. Replaced by a blank emptiness that seemed to extend infinitely.

She stood in his warm embrace awkwardly, unaware of the scenes that played out in his mind and frozen on the spot at the close contact, but after a few moments, she relaxed, her arms remaining at her sides. He didn't seem to notice. Only pondering on the images that he'd witnessed, thinking about how she'd grown up so lonely and full of hurt. Just like him…? _Don't go there, _he thought to himself. The last thing he wanted was to drag up old memories of his own past. This was now, and he didn't want to think about anything anymore.

Seconds, minutes even, passed on in the silence, only the steady beat of her heart could be heard.

The only thoughts drifting in and out of his mind was that it just felt so right, holding something that was so real, something that wasn't trying to kill him or get into his pants. He closed his eyes. No battles, no screaming and no constantly moving about. He felt the tranquillity for once, the soft breeze blowing his tussled hair about, the warmth of the girl in his arms; it really was peaceful.

The sound of rustling broke the calm and he opened his eyes, staring at the city below. A shift in the shadows, followed by writhing silhouettes, he could just make out the glowing red eyes, stalking their prey with a burning hunger. As he lifted his head, he released the lady from the safe circle of his arms, watching as the city landscape began to melt, swirling and engulfing the ruby red glowing points. The sky was falling onto the city as they watched on from the hill; a dark blanket draped itself over the buildings, encompassing all the light that was emitted by streetlights and buildings, snuffing out the life of the city while the wind was blowing more violently, the chilling ambience creeping up her spine. Everything was black now, the only light coming from above, from the three scarlet red points, watching them steadily.

…

Red. That was all she saw really. Everywhere she turned, there were so many different shades but the main colour that she could see was burning red. Red like wine. Ruby red, like blood.

Stepping forward, the crusted dry dirt crackled under her boot. It was dry as a desert and that's what it really felt like. Searing hot and dry with no moisture; the sky was a bloody orange as well with no cloud or shade in sight.

This was just too weird. At one point, she was standing on a hill, watching the stars with Dante, who decided to share body heat and while that did feel good, she wasn't going to lie, it was a bit unnecessary. Her cheeks flushed as her mind raced back to the hill; it had been a long while since anybody had held her so tenderly and gently, but she needed to think. She needed to keep her focus.

Now where was she? No wonder she had flushed, the air was stifling hot, the wind that swept over her was boiling.

Everywhere she turned, the buildings were torn: bricks, glass, everything was gone save for the bent, twisted metal frames, a ghostly shadow of what used to stand in place of the desolate area. Some buildings were still standing, however, with large portions bitten out of the side like an apple. She walked on, down the street; walking, trying to find something, anything that would give her some clue as to what she was doing here. What kind of a hell hole was this?

And that was the problem. This was hell. It felt like hell, not like the one before. No, that one felt like fairies and garden parties compared to this one. What unnerved her here was the fact that there were no screams, no cries for help, just nobody. It was quiet and dead like an empty vacuum of air. Trucks tipped over onto their sides, cars and buses swerved onto an angle and piled into a heap were left charred, their windows shattered. A skeleton in the drivers seat, charred black with crisp papery garments clinging to the frame. The remains of the bus driver too, was left in his - or could it have been a her? - seat, hunched over the wheel. She didn't dare look inside, knowing that it was a school bus from the peeling, yellow paint.

Burning fires were still flaring in some of the cars, some burning in the buildings but she didn't care. She wanted to get out. The smell of burnt flesh and bubbled human fat caught her nostrils and she tried to breathe through her mouth though only scalding her lungs with the heat. It was impossible to get away from the stench.

So she ran. Ran forwards, not caring which way, just forward and away from all of it. Dodging the debris that littered the ground, and the bones that were scattered everywhere, she sprinted, until she came to an intersection. Wide, with cars and trucks and vans all piled into the middle, forming a caravan of vehicles. The intersection traffic lights, bent and twisted on their poles, were glowing, flashing indistinct colours at random intervals, but what caught her eye was the figure standing amongst the wreckage.

Cool, composed and completely detached. Vergil. What was he doing? Why did he pull her into this place? He seemed oblivious to her presence. Not surprising but upon closer inspection as she neared him, he seemed to have a slight frown on his sharp, sculpted features, studying his surroundings with a detached air.

As she approached him, she followed his crystal gaze to a nearby car where a skeletal figure lay stooped over the half melted, deformed steering wheel.

"Where…is this?" she asked. Her own voice sounded a bit dreamy, slow, as if she were floating on clouds.

"This is your world," he said equally slowly, but a hard tone underlying the words, "don't you recognise it? This is Hell. It's the real world."

What the heck was he previously smoking? She looked into his frosty eyes, illuminating an electric blue amongst all the burning heat surrounding them. This was Hell? She half expected a devil with red horns and a three pronged fork to jump from the cars, but she knew that real devils were far more intimidating than that. The real world, huh? No, he just wasn't thinking straight.

"No, this is _your_ world, _you _brought _me_ here! You cut my hand and you - you did something to me-"

"_This_, is your fault," he interrupted sharply, "if you hadn't touched the liquid, this wouldn't have happened. This is Hell, if you hadn't realised, _human, _ it just hasn't happened yet."

"What…? The future?" If what he was saying was true, and she could hardly take his word for it, then what could have caused so much destruction? From the rotting billboard, barely legible, 'Industrie' was printed over a faded image of two half-naked models about to devour each other; the Coca-cola poster opposite the building was falling off its hinges, creaking as the breeze lightly swayed the metal sign. The signs all around her indicated a present day city. So what really happened?

He didn't answer her as he continued studying the surroundings. His indifference was beginning to get intolerable, she needed some response, something to fill the empty voids with the answers she was yearning for rather than vague interpretations of the reality of the issue.

The sound of rock grinding on rock resonated between the dishevelled buildings of the intersection. They swivelled their gaze to the source of the sound, watching as a demon climbed out of a window as if it were a spider, its eyes intently stalking them with beady eyes. Moving her hands to her hips, she realised her weapons were missing.

"It won't attack. We're not completely substantial in this world." he demonstrated with a wave of his hand through the nearby car hood. Her eyes widened as she swiped her hand down on the hood as well, passing straight through. Without a word, Vergil turned to leave.

"Wait!"

…

He honestly did not know why he felt compelled to converse with this woman; this wide-eyed girl who seemed denser than he previously thought. He saw her walking up, an innocent, confused expression as she walked, her diminutive figure a contrast to the wide street and tall broken down buildings.

He could sense her hesitancy and see her guarded eyes darting from one side of the street to the other, scanning for anything. Her skills seemed fairly refined, but not enough to survive a place like this, were it for real. He saw several of the demons lurking around the destroyed constructions, stalking her movements.

Something had drawn her to him and him to her, but he couldn't move, rooted to the spot, so he waited for her to catch up to him. Even then, the feeling only grew stronger and he couldn't stand it. It was a pulling sensation, drawing him to her but he maintained his hold and composure, wishing she would step further back. Distance, that's what he needed. He needed to get away from her suffocating presence before he decided to kill her prematurely and destroy his only chance.

After mustering the strength to turn away, she called out to him.

"Wait!" _Dammit. Couldn't she just leave?_

Turning around, Vergil stared down at her expectantly with cold frost set in his eyes.

"I'm not going to help you. I suggest you find your own way out." he said briskly and began to head off.

A pause as she studied his face. "Why are you doing this?" he heard her quiet voice over the blowing hot wind. Why was he doing what? If she was referring to leaving her by herself then that should have been obvious.

"Why are you helping him?" Daddy's little girl, afterall. It seemed she had the wrong end of it all.

"What makes you think I'm helping him, Mary?" he walked on, passing the ring of piled cars and into the melting swirl of orange and red as she looked on, watching his blue silhouette meld with the surroundings. He didn't bother to linger in her presence and he knew that she was bristling at the use of the name she detested.

She was left with nothing again. Nothing but cryptic questions to answer more questions.

…

She slowly awoke to the glowing fluoro blue flickering along the walls. Sitting up steadily, she glanced at her surroundings, her eyes focusing onto the pedestal set into the wall while she rubbed the back of her neck.

Twisting around to fully take in the expanse of the room, which wasn't very vast at all, her fingers grazed fabric and she looked down to find herself half leaning on Vergil's torso. Snapping his own eyes open, he moved in a blur from lying horizontally to standing up vertically in the blink of an eye. Left on the ground, she was still trying to focus her brain on the surrounding walls while he stared down at her figure.

"Get up." The confined room seemed to make his voice colder, more inclined to bite her head off. As soon as he spoke, he grasped her shirt at the front and dragged her upwards, pushing her against the wall and pinning her there.

"I didn't appreciate the treatment you were giving me before our little nap time, _human,_ so if I were you, you'll do exactly as I say." his voice was definitely colder, laced with controlled spite. It was suffocating, his body pressed flush against hers, generating warmth between the two, but this wasn't tender or gentle; it was nothing like the embrace Dante had given her.

He leaned forward as she turned her head away, painfully aware of how close they were. Inhaling her feminine scent, feeling it send chills down his spine; he had spoke with a smirk on his lips but it didn't reach glacial eyes as they bored straight into hers. She felt uncomfortably bare at that second; his gaze seemed to strip away her defences with such speed, exposing her inadequacies, her insecurities to the surface.

_What the _hell_ are you thinking? They're both _demons It was bad enough that they were both maddeningly frustrating and one was even psychotic, but to feel something invoked by a demon? She was definitely going insane if it was anything other than hatred.

Recalling what he said, he'd accentuated the 'human' like a stain on his pristine flowing garments. The contemptuous tone invoked a twinge of revulsion for this arrogant and insufferable demon. It was one thing to be derided by her own kind but she had to stamp her foot and draw the line at a demon such as this.

"Let…Go...Of…Me!" she ground out between gritted teeth; indignant anger was welling up inside, waiting to erupt and she clenched her fists, knowing her hands were shaking with a fine tremor of rage. Humiliation and shame for feeling even a hint of any kind of emotion towards the jerk earned a barrage of self criticism.

"Now, _demon!_" Jerking her head forward suddenly, her forehead connected with his chin, jolting him backwards only a fraction but it was all the space she needed to lever her legs forward and push away by kicking his chest with all the strength she could muster.

With reasonable distance between the two, Mary spun her body around, a roundhouse almost catching him at the jaw. Almost. The confined space was hard to work around and with the height difference, her execution was partly hindered, leaving her vulnerable as Vergil gripped her boot covered ankle and swung her forcefully around to the adjacent wall. Her head was spinning from the hard impact but she held her ground, swiping hard with her free foot towards the side of his face to him knock back slightly. Landing in a crouch to compensate her balance, she was immediately lifted by the shoulders and slammed into the wall, her nose almost breaking if it weren't for her hands bracing against wall.

The pain that throbbed as her temple hit the stone was overwhelming, a small gasp escaping her lips. Eyes closed, she tried to regain her breath as he leaned over her ear and maintained the steely grip on her shoulders.

"I don't think you really know who you're dealing with."

And with that, he turned away, melting through the liquid wall.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? She knew what he was, a sadistic demon that needed to get his ass kicked, that's what. Snapping her eyes open, she reached behind her back for her Desert Eagle, thinking why she didn't just pull one on him earlier, only to find nothing but air. He must have taken them off! Her most prized weapon! Where would he have put it? If there was nothing else, she'd have her valuable bazooka with her but even that was gone! Why hadn't she notice this earlier?

Growling in fury, she clenched her fists; her wrist was stinging still, beginning to itch from the cut as the blood swelling at the wound slowly began to clot. She'd make him pay!

Taking a run up, she leaped through the wall, closing her eyes and holding her breath.

It felt incredibly awkward, like she was leaping into water or something. Her ears were filled with the liquid substance and she could hear the gurgling of bubbles, realising it was bubbles of her own breath being let out in bursts. Opening her eyes slightly, it was clear blue, submerged in a floating serenity of swirling mists. As soon as she fully opened her eyes, she was jerked forward and through the other side, gravity pulling her back down and straight onto the hard floor.

…

"…wake up sleepin' beauty!"

"Mmrrm…" Turning his head to the side, Dante wished the masculine voice away.

"Hey, come on, man!"

Still eyes closed, an unbearably strong, acrid odour wafted to his sensitive nostrils, flaring then constricting at the sudden insult to his senses. His eyes snapped open wide and he sat up immediately, narrowly head butting the figure leaning over him.

"Whoa! Calm down…" The man said, who tossed what had to be smelling salts to his companion who pocketed the small container. Dante took the second to take in the two newcomers. The guy had brown, spiky hair, compact build and a wide infectious smile that softened intense emerald green eyes - maybe 24 - 25 years old? The chick was a pretty sight, on the other hand. Slight, petite figure, but those silent grey eyes and the two daggers at her hips told him she was no pushover. From the look of them, it was the two mercs that did a runner with the giant kitty-cat.

Getting to his feet in a fluid get up, he passed his gaze over the two once more. They seemed to be relaxed, not at all concerned with his presence or the fact that he was covered in his own drying blood. He slackened the tension in his muscles a fraction, slipping on a lopsided smirk as he focused on the girl, but inside he was wary of any sudden movements and sounds.

"Who's the pretty lady and how much is it gonna cost me?" he appreciated her lethal scowl aimed directly for him with a nod.

The guy had an equally lethal glare that flickered in his eyes, but it faded to amusement as a smile was spreading across his features.

"My sister and you remember that. Montoya." he introduced himself with a nod and a chuckle.

"That's Selest." a small jerk of the head towards the shorter sibling. The scowl turned in a dark glower as she maintained her silence, not in the least amused by the comments or the way her brash brother was freely giving their names.

"Pleasure to meet and greet." Dante said with the raise of an eyebrow as he kept his eyes on the determinedly silent new pretty girl.

Girl…Vergil…the fight...gone. She was gone. As in she could be lying injured somewhere in this crappy pile of rocks. Could be dead at the hands of his brother.

Confusion and uncertainty blossomed as he recounted the events of his dream wave. He distinctly remembered being on a hill, with the warmth of her body radiating into his skin, the comfort that he had felt…and now she was gone. He was feeling as though the world was about to collapse right at that moment. Something about that girl, some sort of connection was sparked during that moment. Something that made him want to protect her innocence, shield her from the raw emotions that were so real - so human. It was the fear and unease that had scarred her soul, the torrent of emotions that wildly ran amuck within, that made him want to smooth it away.

All he wanted at that moment was to go back, when all that existed was that blanket of security, enveloped into that embrace.

Keeping his voice steady, he didn't want to let on that his insides were swirling in a mass of colours as a result of some domineering instinct. Staring at the newcomers with glacial eyes, he spoke evenly, "Where'd the girl go?"

…

Suspicion fell on her face as she regarded the new stranger. She could tell that her brother was thinking the same things even if he smoothly covered it over with a mask of amusement.

Could he be trusted? What was he in relation to her?

Certainly Mary wasn't in the habit of making friends with guys like this. They were witness to his abilities though previously and while, yes, he was outstandingly efficient, even towards the point where she could admit that he was _really_ good. But he seemed _too_ good. Too unnaturally fluid, too inhuman. His silvery mop of hair screamed unusual for goodness sake! His unique features had set him apart from the very start when their eyes fell upon him. The speed at which he moved, the paranormal abilities to instantly heal and unique strength; he was most definitely not human. And the face. He was definitely one of them. Best to be safe than sorry.

_We're not too natural ourselves, sweetpea. _A cool voice cut into her thoughts with a drawl. She hated when Montoya would speak into her mind. It felt slimy and invasive, but it was the secret to their success. Being able to speak over distance had its advantages in terms of efficient mission execution.

Disregarding his comment, she finally spoke up, "We were thinking you would know. What happened?"

The stranger looked off to a wall, seemingly lost in thought. He snapped his eyes back up at them.

"They're going up. Up the tower." the guy answered, not really to her question but more as a realisation dawned on him.

But the realisation was lost on her and her brother. "Who's 'they'?" Montoya asked, not satisfied with the vague answer.

"Vergil. Somehow he needs her." Shaking his head, he kept his steely gaze on Montoya for a second longer before he looked back to the distant wall, obviously preoccupied with his train of thought. Then he simply turned away and walked to the entrance of the courtyard, swooping down to hoist the bloodied sword onto his back.

_Vergil. The other one then. This one has to be Dante._ Montoya confirmed her suspicions, but there was a wariness intertwined with his voice, one that she understood.

_If she was fighting alongside him before, then she would have been able to trust him, however minutely. We will have to trust what he says for now,_ she conveyed to Montoya.

They were definitely going to have to keep an eye on him.

* * *

AN: No, I wasn't abducted by aliens, just really unmotivated to update...for a really…really long time. O.o

Thanks to the reviewers for taking the time to give me feedback, and thank **you** for reading. Hope you enjoyed.

Bettany – That's right, I'm the boss! ;D Hmmm...I don't like writing action very much but I try my best to make it sound more believable – I know that paragraphs of plain action or thoughts are boring though, hence why I chopped it to bits and pieces. Glad to hear that they don't suck that badly!

Tyrant Hamster - ..I've already replied to you!

sasha –Hopefully the romancing will happen within the next century! ;D Thanks for reviewing.

Laryna6 - Yup, a 'what if' sort of story as you already know. Hopefully I'll be able to get more in depth into what Lady experienced beyond the game. Thanks for reading.;)

ChaosLegionFreak – Thanks for the praise and support! I'm really flattered!


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